


More than a Crush

by all_choseny, ivyscribbles (all_choseny)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 119,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_choseny/pseuds/all_choseny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_choseny/pseuds/ivyscribbles
Summary: What if Buffy had given Spike a sliver of slack? A reimaging of season 5.
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Olivia, Spike/Buffy Summers, Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris/Anya Jenkins
Comments: 29
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

Another Saturday, another laundry day. Even Slayers have to do chores, Joyce Summers had declared in a sing-song voice as she handed Buffy a laundry basket of clothes that needed washing. Oh, how she hated laundry day, Buffy thought as she neatly placed folded shirts in three separate piles. Dawn was supposed to be helping her and like always she--

Buffy paused, her hands frozen in place mid-fold. Right. Dawn helping with the laundry was another manufactured memory the monks created when they fashioned her from a ball of energy into flesh and blood. Knowing the truth about her sister didn't make the memories feel less real. She still remembered all the Saturday mornings when they would wake to Joyce listening to music in the kitchen while she made them a "big breakfast." Big breakfast Saturdays had been a tradition in the Summers home for as long as Buffy could remember. 

Buffy recalled the smell of flapjacks cooking on the griddle along with the salty taste of crispy bacon their mom always made every Saturday. After breakfast, she and Dawn would load the dishwasher together and then help Joyce with the laundry. Rather, she would help with the laundry, and Dawn would run off somewhere and hide until the last article of clothing was neatly folded and put away. She always seemed to know exactly when Buffy was done. 

There's that word again, Buffy thought. Always. No, it wasn't always like this. Up until a few months ago, Buffy had been an only child. Growing up, there had been no annoying little sister to split chores with. Big Breakfast Saturdays were something Buffy did with her parents and later something she shared with Joyce-- just the two of them. Dawn was a new edition to their party of three, but her existence was so intricately woven into the fabric of Buffy's memories, it was hard to tell fact from fiction. 

Buffy refolded the shirt in her hands and placed it on top of Dawn's pile. She smoothed her hand across the soft fabric and sighed guiltily. Dawn was her sister. No matter how many false memories the Monks had installed, they couldn't fake love. Buffy recalled her conversation with Dawn just after they had been attacked by Glory. 

“It's just like mine,” Buffy had said clasping their bloody hands together. “It doesn't matter where you came from, or, or how you got here. You are my sister. There's no way you could annoy me so much if you weren't.”

Dawn felt like her sister because she was her sister. Buffy had to move past the feelings of violation and focus on the things that mattered… like why she couldn't find the matching pair to her striped pink socks! 

"Are you almost done, Buffy?" Joyce called from the living room. 

"Yep. As soon as I vanquish the sock gnome." 

"There's sock gnomes? You know, I always wondered where the left socks always disappear to," Joyce teased. 

Buffy smiled and placed the freshly washed and folded clothes into three separate laundry baskets. "All done," Buffy announced, joining her mother in the living room where the older woman was working on some inventory for the gallery. 

"Did Dawn help?" Joyce asked casually as she penciled in some figures on a spreadsheet. 

Buffy paused for a moment. Should she tell? They had been handling Dawn with kid gloves since finding out she was the key. Buffy was still shaken by the cutting incident. She knew Dawn wasn't suicidal or anything, but she remembered back in high school there had been a few kids who cut. Back then Buffy hadn't really understood it, but after taking a few psychology classes at UC Sunnydale, she was a lot more sensitive about those things. She didn't want to do anything that might trigger Dawn into harming herself again or putting herself in danger. Glory was still out there somewhere looking for her. 

"There was some form of helping…" Buffy lied. 

Joyce laid her pencil down and gave Buffy a look. 

"Well, she handed me the detergent. It was pretty high on the shelf and-- it's okay, mom," she added, noticing Joyce wasn't buying it. "Dawn's been going through a lot lately. She could use a day of R and R." 

Joyce laid her pencil down again. “You know, you’re right,” she said thoughtfully. “How about a girl's day? Just the three of us? We can do some shopping and maybe catch a movie.” 

“You had me at shopping,” Buffy said with a grin. 

Things with Glory were ramping up, but Buffy couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend time with her mother. The brain tumor had been a wake-up call for her, and Buffy had made a promise to herself that she would try to spend more time with her mother. She could still fulfill her Slayer duties and spend time with her mother. There was no harm in that, right? 

“Great! Go and find your sister. I want to hit all the major sales.” Joyce beamed. 

++++

“Remember last summer when you got banned from the Froyo counter because you were scamming samples?” Buffy asked Dawn between laughter.

“Hey, they said 'unlimited free samples.' You know, if you eat enough free samples, you can make the smallest cup of Froyo they sell,” Dawn said and took a bite of her pizza. 

“She’s still banned from getting free samples to this day,” Buffy said to their mother. 

Joyce took a bite of her pizza and smiled. “It’s so good seeing you two girls getting along. I’m glad we decided to make a day of it.” 

“Me too.” Buffy reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand. 

She needed this time with her family after the craziness of the past few weeks. This was relaxing, normal. Buffy studied her mother’s face for a moment and noticed that she had lost some of the luster in her eyes, and her skin was starting to look a little pale. 

“Mom, are you alright?” Buffy asked, concerned. 

Dawn paused mid-chew, suddenly aware that something was amiss. 

Joyce’s lips tilted into a thin smile. “I’m fine. Would you girls like more pizza?” she asked. 

Satisfied with her mother’s response, Dawn began chewing again. “Cheese please,” she said around a mouthful.

“You got it!” Joyce said with forced cheerfulness and stood from the table with her purse in hand. “Buffy?” 

She shook her head, declining her mother’s offer of an additional slice of pizza. Giles would be so proud. Buffy watched her mother’s retreating back for a moment before turning her attention back to Dawn. “Having fun?” 

Dawn took a long slurp of her soda and nodded. “Yeah. I like shopping,” she said with a shrug. “But you don’t have to--” she hesitated for a moment. “You can stop doing that thing that you’re doing.” 

“What thing?” Buffy asked incredulously. 

Dawn tilted her head and rolled her eyes. “The thing where you talk about stuff that never happened.” 

Buffy sighed and leaned back into her chair. She knew she had been laying it on too thick, overcompensating for the moment she’d had while doing laundry. In her attempt at trying to make Dawn feel comfortable, she had managed to make things even more awkward between them. 

“I’m sorry, Dawnie,” Buffy said. “I was just trying to--” she paused and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t do it again.” 

Dawn pushed her paper plate aside and folded her arms on the table. “I know you’re just trying to help. It’s just...it’s hard to explain.” 

“I know. And I wasn’t trying to-- I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I saw the Froyo counter, and it made me think about last year... They still feel real to me,” Buffy said quietly. “They are real to me.” 

“Me too,” Dawn said, tucking her chin to her chest. “This really sucks,” she said after a few moments. “I wish we could go back to the way things were before.” 

Buffy seconded that emotion. She hated having had her mind violated by the monks, but now that she was aware of the spell, it made things hard to sort out. She now had two sets of memories, ones that included Dawn and the ones that didn’t. The life she had before Dawn was inserted into it seemed more like a dream. Dawn was real, and she couldn’t imagine her life without her in it. 

“We can if we want to,” Buffy said. 

“What do you mean? Like, have Willow do a spell or something?” 

Buffy shook her head. “No. I don’t think she could anyway. My memories feel real to me. You’re real to me. That’s all that matters, so we shouldn’t feel weird thinking about the past or talking about it.”

“Really?” Dawn asked. Her expression was a mixture of relief and skepticism. 

“Really. You’re my sister, Dawn, and I love you. Even when you’re being super annoying,” Buffy teased. 

“Psht, you’re the annoying one,” Dawn teased back and threw her balled-up napkin at Buffy. 

“Are you girls getting along?” Joyce asked, returning to their table. 

“Yes!” The girls answered in unison and beamed at each other. 

“So, Froyo wasn’t the only thing I scammed that summer. Xander also showed me the art of seeing two movies for the price of one,” Dawn said as she reached for her second slice of pizza. 

++++

It was dark by the time the returned to Revello Drive. Buffy and Dawn helped Joyce unload the packages out the back of the family car together. “Why don’t you go inside and relax, mom. I’ve got the rest,” Buffy said, grabbing another bag from the trunk. “Maybe have some of that relaxing tea you like so much.” 

“Oh, tea does sound nice,” Joyce said and Buffy noticed how tired she looked and sounded again. 

“I’ll make it for you!” Dawn chimed in and trotted toward the door. 

The moment Joyce and Dawn were out of sight, Buffy turned toward the shadows and placed her hands on her hips. Annoyed. “I know you’re there, Spike.” 

The bushes bisecting her home from the neighbors rustled as Spike stepped onto her lawn. Light from the streetlamp cast shadows across his face, making him appear dangerous...and darkly handsome. They hadn’t spoken since the night Glory had nearly discovered Dawn was the key, and Buffy had almost forgotten to be angry at him for spilling the beans about Dawn’s true identity. 

“Slayer,” he said and shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. 

Buffy tapped her foot impatiently and eyed him from her position next to the car. “Well?” 

Spike smirked and shook his head. “Just came by to check on the Bit is all. Wanted to make sure she was...adjustin’ and such.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. She hated it when he did that “concerned” citizen routine. He didn’t give a flying fig about Dawn. If it weren’t for that chip in his head, she and the rest of Buffy’s friends would have been on the menu. Except that he’d had plenty of chances to hurt her and mom, and he didn’t, a small voice in the back of Buffy’s mind reminded her. 

“You mean after that completely avoidable thing that happened at The Magic Shop.” 

“One,” he said ticking off his fingers. “How was I supposed to know about that? Maybe if you lot didn’t keep me in the dark, I’d know better. Two, actually I was talkin’ about the other night with Glory.” 

“Keep you in the dark!” Buffy said with sardonic laughter. “How many times have you made it clear that you’re not here to help. Which continues to beg the question of: Why. Are. You. Here?” 

“I told you, I--” 

“Right, you’re here to check on Dawn.” 

“And Joyce, too,” he added softly. 

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and counted backward from five. Spike always managed to get under her skin, even when he wasn’t trying. He was a plague. He was like mold. No matter how hard they tried to get rid of him, he’d leave his tiny microscopic spores behind, guaranteeing his inevitable return. Well, you could just stake him, the small voice chimed in. Now that would be just cruel. As much as he annoyed her, the chip made Spike harmless. She couldn’t stake him while he was down. Or maybe you like having him around. No! And now, she was inner dialoguing. 

“They’re fine. You can go now.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to leave. 

Spike flexed his jaw and stared at her for a moment before he turned away, walked a few paces, and turned back around to face her again. “You know, most blokes like me wouldn’t care one bit about the Slayer and her little band of misfit toys.” 

“Right. So tell me, why do you care?” Now that was the million-dollar question. Spike had been trying to kill her since the first night they had crossed paths outside of the bronze. Now, because of the chip, he went from trying to kill her to-- befriending her?

“I don’t,” Spike muttered squaring his shoulders. 

“Then why-- you know what, I don’t care. Also, the next time you want to play friendly-neighborhood-vampire, you might want to avoid skulking around dressed in black. Someone might think you’re a burglar.” 

Spike looked down at his attire. He was wearing his usual black t-shirt, denim, boots, and a leather coat. “Aww, Slayer, I didn’t know you cared.” 

“I don’t!” Buffy snapped, echoing him. 

“This is fashionable,” Spike insisted. “Dress better than your brooding forehead ever did," he muttered. 

Buffy’s pressed her lips together until they were a thin, pink line. “On second thought, you’re right. Keep dressing in black. Maybe someone will call the police on you. At least then you’ll be out of my hair for a few days.” 

“You keep telling me that you don’t want me around, love, but I’m not buying it. Otherwise, you would have dusted me ages ago,” he said as if reading her mind. 

“Go. Home. Spike.” 

The corners of Spike’s lips curved into a sultry smirk as he studied her from head to toe, his eyes lingering in certain spots. Buffy shifted on her feet, unnerved by the way he was looking at her as if-- as if he was undressing her with his eyes. She crossed her arms over her midsection protectively and glared at him. 

“I’m going. But one day, Slayer...one day, you’re going to need me around. And maybe I won’t be there.” 

“Doubt it,” Buffy muttered. 

“Tell your mum I hope she’s feelin’ better,” Spike said. 

He had dropped the bravado and for a moment Buffy thought he looked sincere, standing a few feet away from her in the dark. Or it could be the shadow from the streetlamp, she told herself. Buffy turned her back to him and started to head inside, before stopping short. 

“Spike--” Buffy turned around, but he was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of head canon included in this chapter regarding Spike's chips derived from a throw-away line said by Harmony. She mentioned that Spike couldn't even pick flowers. So, I figured if he couldn't pick flowers, maybe he can't hurt a fly. It was included for my own personal comedic relief. I hope it isn't too blasphemous lol. Can we chalk it up to this being an AU? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Stupid, bloody bint, Spike thought as he stalked away the Summers’ residence. If that bitch only knew how many times I could have killed her and her little friends. He still could if he wanted to; Spike was certain there were ways around that sodding chip in his head. Those government types always made some kind of fail-safe or— or something!

Bloody hell! Frustration vibrated through his body. Who was he kidding? There was no fail-safe. He couldn’t even hurt a fly. Literally. The other night, one had gotten into his crypt and wouldn’t stop buzzing in his ear. After five minutes of stalking it like some deranged fly hunter, he had finally caught the damn thing. But his victory had been short-lived. Within seconds of killing it, he’d felt that all-too-familiar searing pain frying his brain bit by bit.

He was as harmless as a kitten and just as useless. It was a wonder that anyone was afraid of him at all. When the Initiative had put that blasted chip in his head, they should have sawed off his fangs, too; they were no use to him anymore. Might as well become one of those tree-hugging vegans, Spike grumped. 

What had his life been reduced to? A few years ago he’d been the ‘big bad’ who went bump in the night. Now, he was following the Slayer around like some lovesick fool. He couldn’t so much as twitch without thinking about Buffy Summers. It had started as a twisted flight of fancy. He had known what it was like to kill a Slayer. He could recall what that felt like, and it was a high he still chased. But, after meeting Buffy Summers, he'd begun to wonder what it was like to do a Slayer. Once that idea had gotten into his head, it had become hard to shake. Spike found himself fantasizing about it often.

And he hated it. Spike was no Angel; he was the slayer of Slayers, not some idolatrous nancy-boy. That sort of fawning rubbish belonged to vampires with souls. Falling in love with a Slayer? Even I’m not that daft, Spike scoffed. Sure, he knew of a few vampires who kept human paramours, but he’d never been interested in that sort of thing. Humans were strictly food. Happy meals on legs. Yet, here he was, in love with the worst type of human-- the Slayer. 

Oh, yes, it was love. It pounded in his blood and coursed through his veins. What started as lusty musings to occupy his nights had become something deeper. What he felt for Buffy was real, because she was real: vulnerable, yet strong. He wanted to peel back her layers and get to the essence of who she really was. But she kept him at arm's length.

He hadn’t blamed her at first; after all, he had made his intentions known from day one. Buffy didn’t trust him, and he had given her very little reason to. But something had changed. Even before the Initiative had shoved that chip in his head, she had gotten beneath his skin and rocked him to his core. Spike still wasn’t quite sure what to do with his feelings for her... except try. That’s it. She made him want to try. The do-gooder thing wasn’t always easy but, by God, he was doing his bloody best. 

Spike shoved his hands into his coat pockets and made a sharp left toward the center of town. What vampire (except he-who-shall-not-be-named) went out of their way to help the Slayer? Hadn’t he helped with Acathla? And what about that Franken-borg? Sure, he hadn’t been a complete boy scout, but he had helped...sort of. That alone deserved some much overdue credit. Not to mention the other night when that Glory slag had gone for the Bit. Who had been there putting his neck on the line for her sister? He had. But none of that seemed to matter to the Slayer and her scoobies. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. 

Spike turned onto Main Street. A few stragglers were hanging about, but in a small town like Sunnydale, most of the residents abided by their self-imposed curfews. He stopped in front of the Magic Box and peered through the darkened window. He didn’t expect anyone to be inside this late, but he didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into one of the Slayer’s friends. Spike knew they wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to narc on him to the Slayer. Kick the Spike seemed to be everyone’s favorite game, especially Xander’s. 

Spike slipped into the alley and fished out the wallet he had nicked earlier. There wasn’t any cash inside, but there were plenty of credit cards. He pulled out an Amex card and slid it down the small crack in the door. Slanting the card, he compressed the latch, then waited a beat before stepping inside. Tsk, Tsk, Rupert, thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now, he thought as he moved through the darkened shop. There were so many times he could have robbed the old man dry… but he didn’t. Another point in his favor. 

Spike bypassed the cash register and headed straight for the herbs and teas. He had heard valerian root was good for headaches and such. Spike sniffed at one of the velvet sacks on the shelf and shoved it in his pocket before grabbing a handful of the valerian root. He searched a few more shelves for some lavender. She’d like that, he thought as he found a small bottle of oil and put it in his pocket, too. On his way out the back door, Spike paused at the register and shook his head. He didn’t need the cash. The dummy he had stolen the wallet from had been kind enough to write his PIN on the signature line.

++++

Spike’s crypt was empty when he arrived home, and a feeling of relief spread through him. He was not in the mood to listen to Harmony's incessant chatter. Spike had meant to break it off with her weeks ago, but he’d never got around to it. Even if he did break up with Harmony, she wouldn't stay gone. She was like that cat in the song; she’d come back the very next day. 

Spike settled down in his second-hand armchair and flipped on the telly. Pat Sajak appeared, bantering with one of the contestants on the show. He liked Wheel of Fortune, but secretly preferred Jeopardy. He liked to be challenged. Sitting back, Spike watched a contestant fumble through solving the puzzle. 

"Oh, come on!" Spike shouted at the television. “It's 'Luck Be a Lady’, you stupid git." 

"Blondie Bear?" Harm called from outside the door, clearly struggling with the latch. "Are you home?" 

"No, Harm. It's our house guest," Spike said, rolling his eyes. 

Harmony's blonde head appeared from around the door. "Oh! It is you," she said, flashing him a bright smile. "I thought you said we had a guest." 

Spike shook his head. "Who would we— You know what, never mind." 

Harmony shrugged off her jacket before planting herself in Spike's lap. "Guess who I saw today?" 

"Who?" Spike deadpanned. He had no interest in hearing about Harmony's day. 

"Guess," she insisted with a toothy grin. 

Spike hated when she tried to make him guess. He never knew what she was going on about, and his guesses were usually wrong. Nevertheless, this was her favorite game to torture him with. 

"I don't know, Harm." He punctuated each word. "Why don't you just tell me?" 

"But this way is more fun," Harmony pouted, poking out her lower lip. 

Spike could think of a million things more fun than playing Harmony's silly, little guessing game. 

But Harmony was relentless, asking again, “Guess who I saw.”

Dead serious, he asked hopefully, "Uh, your next boyfriend?" 

Harmony slapped him playfully on the arm. "No, silly." She giggled, then announced dramatically, "Rusty McCormick." 

"Who's Rusty McCormick?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Oh, just some guy I went to Sunnydale High with. He used to have a huge crush on me." She rolled her eyes. "He was this skinny kid with curly red hair and a major skin condition. Anyway, I was over by the promenade because the shoe boutique was having a huge sale—" 

"Harm," Spike interrupted. "Is there a point to this story or are you going to yammer on about shoes for the next half hour?" 

"I was getting to the good part, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Where was I? Oh! Right. So, I was trying on the cutest pink pumps, when Rusty walks in, and I didn't recognize him at first because he's become a certifiable ten. Turns out, after high school, Rusty got really into fitness and started working out, like, every day. And he’s super buff now. We started talking about our lives and stuff, and he offered to be my personal trainer for half his normal price." Harmony paused and looked at Spike expectantly. "Isn't that great?" 

Spike closed his eyes for a moment and pulled in a calming breath. "That's swell, Harm. But vampires don't need personal trainers, or did you forget?" 

"Of course not! I just thought, with all those endorphins pumping in his blood, he'd taste really good. Plus, I could keep him around for a post-workout snack." 

Spike thought about it for a moment. Every now and then, Harmony’s bite-sized brain came up with a good idea. "Well, that's...actually not a bad idea," he conceded. "How much do these little sessions cost?" 

"Fifty dollars for two sessions a week," Harmony answered hopefully. 

"Pfft! Fifty dollars to have you jumpin’ about. You've got to be kiddin’ me." 

There was no way they were going to waste his hard-earned (stolen) money on a rubbish workout with some lunkhead ginger. What kind of— Spike paused and tilted his head. On second thought… 

"You know, baby,” he said slowly, “that might not be a bad idea after all." 

With Harm out of his hair, he’d have some bloody peace around here. An image flashed through his mind: Buffy barging through his door, blonde hair flying, eyes glowering at him with a mixture of anger and lust.

"It isn't?" Harmony asked with wide eyes.

He fit his hands seductively over her ass and squeezed, making Harmony yelp playfully. "Yeah. You work those muscles. Get them nice and strong," he said suggestively. "Then you can show me what you've learned." 

"Mmmhmm," Harmony purred and nibbled at his ear. 

Spike closed his eyes and imagined a different blonde squirming in his lap. He slid his hand between her thighs, and slowly moved higher. 

"Oh, Spikey!" Harmony breathed. 

Sometime later, Spike lay in bed staring up at the rocky ceiling above his head. He followed an old root's zig-zagging pattern and sighed. Turning his head, he eyed Harmony. She was flipping through one of her fashion magazines, finally ignoring him. 

"I was thinkin' about changin' up my look," he said, cutting through the silence. 

Harmony paused her flipping. "Really?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. 

"Yeah. Been wearing the same duds for about two decades; think it might be time to reinvent myself." 

"You mean like a makeover?" Harmony squeaked, clapping her hands. "I love makeovers!" She jumped to her feet. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"Woah, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves, Harm." Spike sat up and planted a kiss on her arm. "It was just a thought. Somethin' to ease into." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well," Spike began slowly. "Maybe you could rustle me up somethin' to wear and have yourself a snack or two." 

"Oh." Harmony's eyes glittered with renewed hunger. "Can I pick up something for myself?" 

"Of course, my little noodle," he said, running a finger down her arm. 

"Goody! This is so exciting. It'll be like Rachel Leigh Cook in She's All That!" 

"Erm, yeah. Just like that." 

"Or Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman!" she said with excitement. "I always wanted to walk into a store with an armload of bags and shout, ‘Big mistake! Huge!’" 

Spike shook his head. It was time to redirect. "Yeah, but you won't be going shopping, Harm. Remember," he gently reminded her. 

"Oh, that's right," she gave him an airy giggle. 

Spike pictured Riley Finn. Yeah, he wasn't going to go full wanker, but he'd try for something that was more in keeping with the Slayer’s taste. She thought he looked like a burglar? He'd take his look in a different direction. 

"Right then,” Spike began “I've got some ideas.”

++++

Hair. Skin. Sweat. 

Teeth. Blood. Bones. 

Glory ran an agitated hand through her hair and gave it a hard tug.

Useless, human body.

Stupid, shifty monks. 

They took her key, hid it in this dimension, and trapped her in a skin bag. It wouldn't be so bad if hopeless Ben was actually useful. He was supposed to be her eyes and ears, but he couldn't even do that right!

"All I want is my key," Glory whined. 

"And you shall have your key, oh benevolent one. It's only a matter of time." 

"Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock," Glory said,tugging her hair rhythmically from side to side. "Time is running out. Do you know what they say about running out of time?" 

"No, your magnanimous gracefulness. What do they say?" 

Glory paused and turned to face the scab-faced minion. "I don't know. I was asking you," she said stalking forward. 

The minion coward and bowed its head. "The key is close." 

"Tell me something I don't know!" she said between gritted teeth. "The key could literally be anything. It could be you!" 

"Oh, no!" the minion said, shaking its head rapidly. "I am unworthy of such an honor." 

Glory paused and put her hands on her hips. "Of course you're unworthy." She rolled her eyes in disgust. "I was just using you as— You know what? Never mind. All I want is my beautiful, shiny key. And the Slayer is keeping it from me." 

"The Slayer will come around. She's friends with our Ben. I am confident he will get it out of her soon." 

"Ben isn't exactly team Glory. If only he wasn't so stubborn," she said stomping her feet.

"If it pleases my delectable and eminently reasonable liege, we will widen our search. We will find your key." 

Glory clapped her hands together in faux excitement. "Really?!" Her eyes brightened, before her countenance turned dark again. "Well, get to it! Go!" she shouted when none of them moved.

Glory watched as the demons scrambled to obey. She pictured her key and imagined the moment she would shed her human prison and watch the world bow before her.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy had no idea how much work she missed in Professor Cringles’ class. Weren’t they on The French and Indian War last week? That was at least 100 years of good old-fashioned American history. How did we get to the American Revolution already? Buffy thought as she scrambled to find the reading in her textbook. Panicked, she flipped to the index and scanned each micro-printed topic for the correct page. Why did textbooks insist on using the tiniest font possible? She groaned as the professor plowed forward without her. 

“Can anyone tell me how the Intolerable Acts further set into motion the events that would lead to the American Revolution?” 

The intolerable who? Buffy mouthed and looked around as several hands shot in the air. 

“Ms. Rosenberg?” Professor Cringle acknowledged and nodded his head in Willow’s direction. 

“Well,” Willow began. “Parliament meant for the acts to punish the colonists in Massachusetts because of the Boston Tea party. They tried to deter the people from engaging in any more acts of defiance, making an example out of them. Instead, it made other colonies—especially those who had once committed to being neutral—feel empathetic toward Massachusetts. Essentially, it had the opposite effect since most colonists felt the laws were too harsh, causing unrest. It was only one of several events that would continue to build until eventually, everything imploded.” 

“Excellent observation, Ms. Rosenberg,” Professor Cringle said with approval. 

Willow glanced at Buffy with a wide grin, prompting her to force the corners of her lips into a wan smile. Buffy was adrift in a sea of information. While she’d been busy dealing—or not dealing—with her breakup with Riley, protecting Dawn, and worrying about her mother’s illness, the world kept on spinning without her. There weren’t enough hours in the day between wallowing in her post-relationship breakup pity party, protecting Dawn from a psychotic hell-god, and caring for her mother. She needed something—anything—to keep her from drowning. 

“Great class, right, Buffy?” Willow’s cheery voice cut through her thoughts. Buffy watched Willow repack her messenger bag. 

“Huh, yeah. Great class,” Buffy squeezed out. 

“Don’t you just love history? And Professor Cringle makes it just come alive,” Willow went on. 

“Cringles great,” Buffy agreed weakly and glanced toward the front of the class where he stood chatting with a few stragglers. “Speaking of... I need to talk to him about last night’s discussion board. Catch up with you later?”

“Totally. Tara and I have a free period. We’ll probably be out by the quad,” Willow said, grabbing her bag. 

Buffy watched her friend head out of the classroom and tried not to envy the ease in which Willow moved throughout her day. Even surrounded by her friends—as well-meaning as they were—Buffy still felt the sting of loneliness. She wished she had someone to confide in, but she was “put-together-girl.” If she cracked, then everyone would know she didn’t have it all figured out. They would know how terrified she was of failing Dawn and her mother. She was the Chosen One. She should have all the—

“Can I help you?” Professor Cringle asked, yanking Buffy from her thoughts. 

“Hi—I um, Professor,” she stammered. 

Professor Cringle cocked a shaggy, gray brow and gave her an impatient look. 

“Class was really good today. Really enjoyed your lecture on the Intolerable Acts. Very titillating.” 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he said and began stacking notes into his briefcase. 

“Well, I was wondering, kind of hoping really.” Buffy twisted her fingers together and shifted from foot to foot. “That I could have an extension on some assignments I missed the last few weeks. I’ve had a family emergency come up, and things have been big with the crazy.” 

Professor Cringle paused and turned his body to face her. “And you are?” 

Warmth flooded Buffy’s cheeks, turning them a darker shade of pink. “I’m Buffy. Buffy Summers. I, uh, wrote the paper—you said it was very good.” Her speech was stilted.

Professor Cringle narrowed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Oh, yes, that’s right. You’re the student who wrote a ‘very good’ paper. And now because of this ‘very good’ paper, you expect special privileges that your other cohorts don’t get because things have been ‘big with the crazy.’” 

“No, I—that’s not what I—Buffy swallowed the lump lodged at the back of her throat and took a deep breath. “I--. This isn’t going the way I expected,” Buffy said, starting again. “I wasn’t asking for special treatment. It’s just that my mother is sick—brain tumors, and I’ve had to help a lot with my sister.” Buffy held up her hand as she spoke. “And in no way expect you to care or anything. I’m trying here, and I—" will not cry. I will not cry. Buffy cleared the tears out of her throat. 

Professor Cringle sighed again and packed up the rest of his notes. “Look, I get it. Things happen beyond our control sometimes. I made a syllabus at the beginning of the year with my policies on missing work. You get one pass, which I’m sure you’ve already used. Anything beyond that…” Professor Cringle glanced at the door, then back at Buffy. “I’ll tell you what, get me a five-page paper by the end of the week with at least four outside sources about the reading. That’ll make up for your missed discussion boards. There’s also a test next week. I expect you to be in class for that. If you can get the paper turned in by Friday and at least bring in a C on your test, we can talk about your assignments moving forward.” 

Buffy closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you! Thank you, professor Cringle. You have no idea how much this means to me. The last guy told me I should withdraw from all my classes and come back next semester.” 

“Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but it might benefit you to weigh all your options, Ms.-- “

“Buffy. Summers.” 

“Ms. Summers.” Professor Cringle reached for his bag. “Email me if you have any questions. And just a tip about the paper, start with the subheadings in the reading for a topic.” 

“I will! Thank you!” Buffy flashed him a goofy smile. 

“Yes, well, I look forward to another ‘very good’ paper, Ms. Summers,” Mr. Cringle said as he headed out the side door.

++++

“You’re looking chipper,” Willow greeted Buffy as she approached one of the picnic tables in the quad. 

“Christmas came a little early this year!” Buffy replied and slid down beside Tara. 

“Oh, should I break out my little elf,” Tara asked, peeling back the wrapper on some string cheese. “You know, for my shelf,” she added. 

“Break out all the elves. We can even have a little elf shelf party.” 

“Oh, fun!. What’s the occasion?” Willow asked.

“Professor Cringle gave me a paper to write by the end of the week." 

Willow and Tara shared a confused look. “And that’s good because…” Tara said. 

“He’s allowing me to use the paper to make up for my missed assignments,” Buffy explained. 

“Oh, that’s nice of him!” Willow agreed. “He’s kind of Mr. Ridged with the syllabus. 'Please refer to your syllabus for questions about classroom policy,'” Wilow mimicked. 

“Yeah, Buffy, that’s great,” Tara chimed in. “I think your teachers will understand what you’ve been through these last few weeks with your mom and stuff.” 

“Maybe. But you know, what’s a little murderous hell god when a paper's due by Tuesday,” Buffy said and immediately regretted it. “I mean, I’m not the only one with stuff. So, I get it. It’s not like the world revolves around little old me.” 

Tara’s eyes grew soft as her lips tilted into a thin smile. “You’re right, we all have stuff, but it’s okay to feel how you’re feeling Buffy.” 

“Thank you,” Buffy mouthed at Tara, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would crack. “So, you guys want to Bronze it tonight? You know, for a little early Christmas celebration?” 

“Yeah. I’ll call Xander and see if he and Anya want to come. This is definitely a reason to celebrate,” Willow said. 

“Great! See you guys tonight!” Buffy said, rising to her feet. 

“Wait, where are you going? You just got here,” Willow pouted. 

“My next class isn’t until three. I want to go home and check on mom,” Buffy replied.

Tara looked down at her watch and frowned. “You’re sure you can make it back in time, Buffy?” 

“Well, if both of my buses defy all odds and actually run on schedule, I should be able to make it back by,” Buffy took Tara's wrist in her hand. “a quarter to the skin of my teeth.” 

“Oh. Well, if you don’t, see if someone will let you copy their notes,” Tara suggested. 

“Great Idea! I’ll catch you guys later.” Buffy yelled over her shoulders. 

++++

“Mom! I’m home!” Buffy called out as she let herself in through the kitchen. 

She grabbed a stack of mail on the counter and sifted through it while she checked the answering machine—still no message from her father. Buffy’s stomach rolled as she tried to ignore the image of her father living his best life while her mother was--nope, not even going to think about the d-word, Buffy thought, forcing herself to redirect her thoughts. Shaking her head, she placed the mail back on the counter and eyed a brown paper sack by the sink. 

“What’s that?” she asked herself out loud as she moved toward it. 

Buffy peeled back the wrinkled edges and inhaled the fragrant aroma inside. There was a small assortment of teas and oils nestled together at the bottom of the bag. Buffy read the bottle marked lavender oil and carefully unscrewed the cap. The scent filled her nostrils, filling her with a sense of calm she’d been craving all day. Buffy took another long sniff, recapped the bottle, and read the accompanying note. 

Heard this was good for headaches and such.

—S

Closing her eyes, Buffy clamped her teeth together and counted backward from five. Spike! Why couldn’t he take a hint?! Buffy groaned to herself. She glanced at the clock hanging over the pantry door. If she left now, she could get to Spike’s crypt and make it clear to him to stay away from her and her family. Buffy grabbed her keys from the counter and marched toward the door. 

“Buffy? Is that you?” Joyce called from the foyer. 

Buffy ducked her head through the kitchen door and caught her mother as she made her way down the staircase. “I was calling you,” Buffy said. 

Joyce touched a hand to the back of her head and gave Buffy a sleepy smile. “I must have fallen asleep.” 

“Is everything okay?” Buffy asked, rushing toward the foot of the stairs. 

“Oh, honey, I’m fine. Really,” Joyce added, brushing the back of her hand across Buffy’s cheek. “I had a bit of that tea Spike left for me, and it must have put me right to sleep.” 

“You drank that stuff?” Buffy asked with a slight sneer. 

“It’s only tea, Buffy. Don’t worry. Despite the shady brown bag, it’s all legal. I’ll save the illicit stuff for when you and Dawn move out,” Joyce teased as she headed toward the kitchen. 

Buffy bit her bottom lip and took a quick breath. “Maybe we should talk to your doctor to see if that stuff’s okay.” 

Joyce filled her teakettle with water and placed it on the stove. “Sure. I’ll call him, but I’ve been doing some reading. Did you know there’s an entire movement of holistic medicine?” Joyce asked as she slid onto a stool. “It’s supposed to help with—you know.”

“That’s great, mom. I just want to make sure we aren’t doing anything that could affect your medicine.” 

Joyce’s lips curved into a wan smile. “You’re so grown up,” Joyce said, with a twinge of sadness. “And you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be okay. Promise,” Joyce said and fixed a cheerful smile on her face. “Are you done with classes for the day?” Joyce asked. 

“Yeah. My schedule was pretty light,” Buffy lied. 

“Oh, that’s nice. Maybe you can have a cup with me before you study?” Joyce asked, rising to her feet. 

Buffy smiled at the hopeful look on her mother’s face. She took in every line and crease. They were more noticeable. But some color had returned to her cheeks. Buffy glanced at the brown sack again and shook her head. She’d have that talk with Spike some other time. Her mother seemed better, and that was all that mattered. 

++++

It was live Band night at the Bronze, and Buffy watched as a few people gathered on the dance floor as the lead singer of Summercamp broke into their latest hit, “Play It By Ear.” Buffy closed her eyes and bobbed her head to the music, letting the sound wash over her. She had left Dawn and Joyce at home with a puzzle. Giles was a phone call away, and all was well with the world—well, until the next crisis, Buffy thought to herself. Buffy ignored the twinge of worry in her chest and focused on the moment. For now, her mother and sister were safe, and she was at the Bronze, attempting to have a good time. 

Her lips curved into a weak smile as she watched Anya pull Xander onto the dance floor beside Tara and Willow. They’re so happy. That’s good. Happy is good, Buffy thought with a sniff. She wanted to do everything in her power to keep them happy. And to keep Glory as far away from them as possible. 

“Bleedin’ crime is what it is,” Spike said, appearing as if from thin air. 

Buffy dragged her eyes from the dance floor and focused on Spike. A slight frown creased her brow as he took the empty seat across from her. She’d almost forgotten about the little package of herbs and teas he delivered to her home. 

“Jackin’ up the bar price to pay for fixin’ up this sinkhole. Not my fault insurance doesn’t cover act of troll,” Spike complained. 

Buffy leaned forward and eyed him critically, taking in his brown leather bomber and Khaki pants. Did he change his clothes? Buffy glanced over her shoulder, making sure he was talking to her. The snooping around her house. The tea. The change of clothes. The small talk. What the hell are you up to, Spike? She scoffed to herself. 

“Gee, maybe it’s time you found a new place to patronize,” she snarked. 

“I’ve half a mind to! Especially since the flowering onion got remodeled off the sodding menu.” Spike leaned forward, closing the gap between them. 

The scent of his cologne cut through the greasy smell of cheese fries and hot wings, distracting her momentarily from the annoyance of his presence. Did he always wear cologne? Buffy wondered. 

“‘S the only thing this place had going for it.”

True, Buffy thought and shook her head. The Bronze wasn’t exactly known for its fine cuisine. Focus. Annoying Spike is annoying. “What are you doing?” She snapped. 

Spike frowned and looked around the room, confused. “Wha, what do you mean what am ... I…”

“Here? At this table? Talking to me. Like we’re some kind of talking buddies,” she explained, raising her brow. 

What did he think—a few acts of kindness erased the years of trouble he caused her? Buffy studied him for a moment, her brows creasing in thought. Buffy pictured Joyce sitting across the kitchen table while sipping Spike’s tea. Her smile was buoyant and relaxed while she praised the vampire on his choice of refreshments.

“Well, I saw you ... sitting here alone. Thought, I don’t know, you could maybe do with a bit of, uh, you know, company.”

Spike thought I needed company—his company. Oh, God, this is rock bottom. This is the look of rock bottom, she thought and shifted in her seat. Buffy glanced at the dance floor and watched her friends. They were laughing and smiling and utterly oblivious to the state of her current loneliness. Buffy turned her gaze back to Spike. 

“Suit yourself!” He huffed, stalking away from her before abruptly turning around. “Although,” he began retaking his seat. “It’s just, we took on that Glory chippie together, I was right there with you, fightin’ the fight.”

Buffy opened her mouth in protest, the rebuttal dying a swift death between her lips. He’s right, the tiny annoying voice whispered in her head. He helped—sorta. Buffy shook her head, ignoring the voice. 

“Actually, you were sleeping the sleep of the knocked unconscious.” There! Don’t go all soft now, Buffy. Remember who you’re dealing with here. He’s still Spike, even if he’s dressed like the guy from Copy Mania. 

Spike flexed his jaw. “Still, points for intent. You’d think that would be enough to cut me a sliver of slack. Earn a little consideration, respect,” he tried appealing to her. 

Softening, Buffy couldn’t ignore the earnestness in his voice. There was a sincerity to his words that danced across the space between them, touching the parts of Buffy she kept reserved for the people she cared about. Yes, his fight with Glory had been pathetic and short-lived, but he tried. One could even argue that he distracted Glory long enough to allow Buffy room to escape. Spike came through when she needed him, and he had gotten anything out of it. If she didn’t know better, it was almost as if he—

Buffy studied Spike caustically for a moment before her features softened. “Fine. But only for one drink.” She cautioned and hitched her chin toward his half-finished beer. 

Spike sank into his chair as the tension seeped from his body, causing his shoulders to sag. An awkward silence filled the space between them as they struggled to find something to say. What did she have in common with a one hundred and a fifty-year-old vampire? 

“Hey, uh, Evil Dead, you’re in my seat,” Xander said, approaching the table. 

Buffy looked at him and shook her head, signaling that she was fine. Xander frowned and tilted his head in confusion; his gaze shifted between Buffy and Spike with hesitation. It’s okay; she communicated with her eyes and nodded toward the dance floor with a shrug. She’d explain later. Taking the hint, Xander wrapped his arms around Anya’s waist and guided her back to the dance floor. 

“So—"

“So—" Buffy and Spike stared at once. Buffy shook her head and gave him a thin smile. “You first,” she prompted him. 

“So,” he said, drumming his index finger on the table in a steady tattoo. “Other than the whole Glory thing, how’s it going? School, for instance?” he fished. 

Was Spike asking her about school? A few months ago, she would have laughed at the thought of the platinum vampire taking an interest in her academic life. He’d spent years trying to have his “one good day” with her; now he wanted to see her report card? 

“Why do you— “she began and stopped short, the words froze on the tip of her tongue. Buffy sighed and pulled at her bottom lip. Be careful what you wish for, she thought as she recalled her silent entreaty. The universe had a wild sense of humor, and Buffy often found herself on the receiving end of it. Why the hell wouldn’t it send Spike to be her little talking buddy. 

“School is…” she paused and debated on whether to give him the “everything-is-fine-answer” or the truth. “Overwhelming,” she answered, settling on the truth. 

“Oh?” Spike moved forward in his chair with concern reflecting in his cerulean eyes. “That Parker git giving you trouble again? Because I have a mind to—“ he said, rising to his feet. 

The corners of Buffy’s lips twitched as she tried unsuccessfully to bite back a smile. “Getting a splitting headache?” she reminded him. “Sit down, Spike. This isn’t a Parker problem.” 

“Oh, well,” Spike said and rubbed the back of his head. “Right then. Good. Because I have to tell you, Summers, your taste in men... there’s soldier boy,” he said, raising his hand to the middle of his chest. “And then that guy,” he added, positioning his other hand several inches beneath the first. 

Buffy tilted her head and raised her brow. “You’re pushing it,” she playfully warned. 

“Sorry. My bad....” He waited a beat and added, “Talk to me, Slayer. Anything I can do to help?” 

Buffy frowned, still unclear of Spike’s intentions. When he wasn’t pissing her off, he was confusing the hell out of her—both were his favorite pass-times. “I’m falling behind,” Buffy admitted, her cheeks colored a soft shade of pink. “In pretty much all my classes. So, unless you can whip out a five-page paper for me on the American Revolution—no, I don’t think you can.” 

“Hey, you’ve got a lot in your bag these days, Slayer. Between your mum, the bit, and that hell bitch, it’s a wonder you’re still going.”

“Gee, thanks,” Buffy deadpanned. 

Spike shook his head. “That’s not what I—all, I’m saying is that you’ve got a lot of shit going on. Way more than the rest of them,” he added, nodding toward the crowded bar. “Honestly, I admire you for it, Slayer.” 

“What?” Buffy asked, choking on her sip of cola. 

“Well, don’t look so surprised. Not too many people can do what you do and still try to maintain normalcy. Here you are, school-girl by day and slaying demons at night, all while trying to take care of your mum and little sister. S’ not anything to shake a stick at.” 

Buffy shifted in her chair. “Thanks,” she mumbled, ignoring the sudden warmth that filled her. He was pleasant, comforting her. 

“I mean it, Slayer. You can only do so much, and my offer stands. If there’s anything, I can do to help... I’m quite the history buff myself, on account of having been around for a century and all. S’ if you have any questions, my crypt is always open.” 

Buffy’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Are you offering to tutor me, Spike?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Buffy’s mind drew a blank; She couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d never imagined in a million years that she’d ever contemplate taking Spike up on his offer to help her with homework. Stranger things have happened. 

“Well, uh, thanks,” she stammered. 

Spike gave her a curt nod and rose to his feet. “Well, I’ll just— " He hitched his chin toward the exit. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you have stuff—“ 

“Right. Places to go and things to do and such,” Spike finished. 

Buffy stood up. Hesitating, “I was just about to head out myself, do a little recon.” Her eyes darted toward the floor. “I don’t want to bother the gang. They...” Buffy glanced toward the dance floor. “Things have been crazy for them, too.” 

“Yeah, no doubt,” Spike agreed, looking down at his loafers. 

“Maybe you—“

“Yeah,” he rushed. “I mean, whatever you need, Slayer,” he amended. 

Buffy fiddled with the hem of her shirt and forced herself to look at him again. “Okay, I’ll let the others know…” her voice barely caring over the ambient bar chatter. 

“And I’ll be outside,” Spike said, pointing toward the door.


	4. Chapter 4

_Cigs_ , Spike thought as he waited outside of the Bronze for Buffy. He tapped the breast pocket of his new-old leather bomber jacket and cursed himself for leaving them at home. He pictured the ratty box of Marlboros tucked away in his duster back and frowned. If there were ever a time he needed to smoke, this was it. Every nerve in his body hummed, making him feel like a schoolboy rounding second base for the first time.

Spike shook his head and let out a self-deprecating laugh. He hadn’t been this nervous over a woman in a century. Until a few months ago, he hadn’t thought he could feel these emotions toward a slayer— _the Slayer_. But Buffy had gotten inside, worked her hoodoo, and turned him into a pile of Spike-shaped mush. 

“Sorry, the gang wanted to come, and I had to threaten violence,” Buffy said as she stepped into the alley. 

“’S no problem. I was enjoying the quiet,” he said, stepping closer and inhaling the air surrounding her. 

She smelled of lilacs and honeysuckle. On anyone else, the scent would be cloying; Buffy wore it well. She wore everything well. 

He matched his stride with hers, taking in the ambiance as they turned one corner, then the next. They could have passed for any couple on a late-night stroll. Thanks to Chad from Copy Mania, he looked the part of some average Joe. Harmony had avoided going full ponce with the duds. He was still out of his element, but he didn't look foolish. Not that Buffy had mentioned his new threads. He glanced down at his brown loafers, then at Buffy again. Hopefully they wouldn’t get into anything too hairy that night. 

Buffy marched along with a determined look on her face. The warmth from earlier had melted away, making it hard for him to get a read on her mood. With the Bronze behind them, she was all-business-Buffy again, and he remembered why they were out together. They weren’t a couple. This wasn’t some romantic evening stroll. They weren’t lovers—not even close—but he’d take what she was willing to give him as long as he could be near her. All pretense and bullshit aside, all he wanted was to be close to her. Maybe then, she could chase the darkness out of his life and envelope him in her light.

“I think this is the spot,” Buffy announced, stopping outside Sunnydale Memorial Park. 

Spike glanced around the tree-lined street, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Spot?” 

Buffy took a slow turn, surveying the park and street. “Where Shere Khan slithered off. The night Glory sent it to find D— the Key.” 

“Shere Khan?” Spike raised a quizzical brow. 

“You know the snake from _The Jungle Book_ —Shere Khan?” 

Spike ducked his head and bit back a grin. “Shere Khan was the tiger, love,” he corrected her with a gentle smile. 

“Oh.” Buffy wrinkled her nose in thought. “It’s been forever since Dawn watched that movie. Used to drive us—” She shook her head, refocusing. “Anyway, this is the spot where I”—She made a stabbing motion with her fist—“I stopped it right about here…”

“Which means our little schizophrenic psycho set up camp nearby,” Spike finished. 

He looked around the neighborhood, taking in a deep breath. Cut grass and honeysuckle filled his senses. The park sat to his left and, across the street, were rows of upscale flats. But no sign of Glory. The area was so... congenially domestic. _Looks like the little chippie likes her creature comforts_. 

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Buffy confirmed. “Or she might be miles away, and I’m chasing a dead end.” 

“No.” Spike shook his head, hearing the doubt in her voice. “Makes sense to start here,” he assured her. “We narrow the field and take it from there.” 

Buffy’s lips curved into a weak smile. “Yeah, but there’s only one problem... What to do with her when we find her?” Buffy paused and looked away. “She’s so strong, Spike. I barely…” Buffy tucked her chin to her chest. “I’m no match for her,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Spike tilted his head to the side and studied Buffy’s pensive expression. Unease reverberated off her in waves; he could almost touch it. _Ah, that’s why she asked me along_. In the past, he’d seen her up against some scary hell besties, but this was the first time he had ever seen her truly afraid. He wished he could ease her fears, give her some assurance that things would work out. All bravado aside, he cared about her and hated to see her so unsure of herself. 

“You’ve got Red and her gal pal. I’m sure they can whip something up,” he suggested. 

“Last time Willow 'whipped something up’, she almost gave herself an aneurysm.” Frustration replaced Buffy’s unease, clenching her jaw. “I don’t want my friends getting hurt. I don’t want to lose anyone because I can’t—”

“Hey now,” Spike said, closing the gap between them. Dipping his knees, he forced her to look at him. “None of that talk, yeah. So she’s stronger. But I’ve seen you take down monsters stronger than you before.” 

Buffy lifted her chin and met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “Why are you acting so nice to me?” 

_I love you_. “Be-because I want to live… un-live. You know what I mean.” 

“Right, you don’t want the world to end. You’d miss all the Happy Meals with legs.” 

Spike winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve sworn off the golden arches these days,” he reminded her with a sheepish grin. “Might not be a vegetarian by choice, but I like it here. Might as well align m’self with the people who have a fighin’ chance.” 

“At least you’re honest,” Buffy said, stepping away from him. “And the tutoring help? What’s that all about?” 

Spike joined her beneath an enormous oak tree and looked for any markings or signs that indicated Glory was nearby. “The whole book learning thing seems important to you. ’Sides, what about you?” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Why’d you ask me to come with you tonight?” 

Buffy angled her body toward him and frowned. “I— Ben!” Her eyes grew round. 

“Ben?” Spike swung around. 

“Buffy, hi!” Ben said, approaching them with an affable smile. He turned to Spike. “And I’ve seen you around, but I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” 

With a placid expression fixed on his face, Spike gave the boy a quick once-over. _Right. Here comes pajama-boy with his Vidal Sassoon hair and designer t-shirt, ruining the moment_. Spike hated him on sight. “Spike,” he muttered. 

“I barely recognized you without your hospital scrubs,” Buffy said with a crooked smile. 

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the extent of my wardrobe,” Ben teased. “I have an outfit for each day of the week and weekends too.” 

_Oh, gag me._ Spike swung back to Buffy and noted the admiring look on her face. What did she see in guys like him? 

“Really?” Buffy teased back. 

“I actually have outfits that aren’t blue pajamas. Besides, I’m pretty sure scrubs aren’t part of the Bronze dress code.” 

“The Bronze has a dress code?” Buffy asked in shocked confusion. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I was just heading there now,” Ben said, pointing down the empty street. “I heard there was live music tonight. You two down?” he asked, looking between Buffy and Spike, his eyes lingering on Buffy. 

Spike rolled his eyes. _Bold move from nurse Ben_. Annoyed, Spike shoved his hands deep into his pockets and waited for the part where Buffy ditched him for Riley 2.0. _Did I really think I stood a chance with her, anyway? The woman despises me._

“We just left the Bronze,” Buffy informed him. 

“Yeah? And you made it all the way out here?” Ben said, looking around. 

“We were, um—” Buffy stammered. 

“Thought we’d take a walk around town,” Spike interjected. “It’s peaceful on this side of the tracks at night.” 

“Yeah. One of the few quiet spots,” Ben agreed. “I like it around here.” 

“So, you live nearby?” Spike asked, his eyes narrowing. 

Spike had been all around Sunnydale and had never run into the good doctor before. Then again, he hadn’t been looking for him either. If Buffy hadn’t been making googly eyes at the boy, he’d never have come across Spike’s radar. Spike looked between Buffy and Ben and ignored the red, hot envy gurgling in his stomach. If only Buffy would look at him the way she looked at pajama-boy. 

“Uh, no,” Ben replied. “I was visiting a friend.” 

_Accelerated pulse. Light perspiration across the brow. Somebody’s lying_. _But why?_

“Oh,” Buffy said, disappointment in her eyes. “Um, my sister ... uh, told me what happened at the hospital before I got there.” 

Ben shifted his weight. “Uh-huh.” 

“And, uh, I just wanted to say thanks,” Buffy stammered. “For looking after her?” she added at Ben’s evident confusion. 

Ben smiled, and a gush of air escaped his lips. “That’s okay. I’m glad Dawn’s all right.” 

_Interestin’_. Spike studied the relieved expression on Ben’s face. Something wasn’t right, but Spike couldn’t put his finger on it yet. He’d have to tread carefully with this one. Stomp too hard and he’d ruin any progress he was making with Buffy. 

“Well, we best get moving,” Spike interrupted. He had enough of the chitchat. They were looking for clues, doing the Scooby thing, and Doctor Ben was getting in the way.

“Oh, yeah. Gotta get those steps in. Just doing my part to keep the old heart ticking,” Buffy said, patting her chest.

Ben flashed her a smile. “That’s right. The Surgeon General recommends walking every day.” 

_Ponce._

“Buffy,” he called out, barely masking his impatience.

“Right. Anyway, I’ll see you around?” she asked Ben. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he promised before they parted ways. 

“There’s something off about that guy,” Spike said when Ben was out of earshot. 

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look. “You’re not jealous, are you, Spike?” Her lips curved into a saucy grin. 

“Psht. Of that git? Hardly,” Spike scoffed, shoving his hands into his pocket as he stalked ahead. 

Laughing, Buffy caught up and shook her head. “Yeah, who’d be jealous of a successful, dreamy doctor.” 

Spike gave her a sidelong glance. Her eyes danced with mischief, warming him. Was that a smile? He’d grown so accustomed to her condescension and disgust that seeing her smile nearly took his breath away. “Oh, right? I’m sure doctor feel-good is right up your alley.” 

“Like your taste is any better,” Buffy shot back. “One word: Harmony.” 

“Hey. Harm’s—” Spike paused and shook his head. “What can I say, Slayer. Not everyone can be—” _you_. “Erm, a doctor,” he finished with a fizzle. 

An awkward silence settled between them. For a moment, Spike had almost forgotten why he’d gone traipsing around the park at night with her. He glanced down at his loafers and noticed mud caking on the suede. He’d never been a fan of Sperry’s anyway. 

Buffy cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything out here tonight.” Disappointment and relief clouded her voice. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking around the empty park. “If Glory’s hangin’ ’round here, I doubt she’d walk right up to us and start chitchattin’.” 

“Exactly. More like beat us both unconscious.” 

“Hey! That still counts for somethin’,” Spike said, hoping to rekindle their earlier banter.

“I better be getting home anyway,” she said. “I don’t like leaving my mom and Dawn alone for too long.” 

“Right. Let’s call it a night. I’ll put out some feelers,” Spike offered, wiggling his fingers. “And see if anything rustles up.”

Buffy paused, an odd expression on her face. “Thanks.” 

“’S no big deal, Slayer.”

They walked back to Buffy’s in silence, neither saying a word when they passed his cemetery. Spike told himself he was watching out for her in case Glory showed up. The hell God may be stronger than him, but he could hold her off long enough to allow Buffy to get away. _Let’s see that berk, Doctor Ben, take Glory on. The boy wouldn’t last a second with that crazy bint._

“Well, this is me,” Buffy said, stopping in front of her house. 

Spike looked up at the darkened windows, and a slight smile curved his lips. He could hear Dawn sound asleep, breathing slow and steady. Joyce was watching television in the living room. “Everythin’s safe and sound,” he said, nodding toward the house. 

“How’d you—” Buffy started with a frown and shook her head. “Nevermind. Vampire hearing.”. 

Spike shrugged and offered, “I can do a sweep.”

“I’m sure we’re okay.” Buffy looked up at the house again. “I, um…” 

“Yeah,” Spike finished for her with a curt nod. 

Buffy took the porch stairs two at a time before turning around to face him.

A breath caught in his chest, nearly knocking him off his feet. She made him forget he didn’t have to breathe. 

“Spike, I—” She stopped short, a storm brewing behind her green eyes. “Thank you for coming out tonight with me,” she rushed. “And, um, for offering to help me with my paper.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” He waved her off. 

“I’ll probably just throw something together, but... thanks anyway,” she added before letting herself in the house. 

Spike stood in the shadows and listened until he was sure she was safe inside. There was a jaunt in his step as he walked the silent streets back to his crypt. Tilting, his head back, he turned his gaze toward the moon. He used to relish nights like these, when the weather lulled people into forgetting they were on the mouth of hell. _Low-hanging fruit_.

Sighing, he kicked a stray pebble into the road. Yeah, there were times he missed the hunt, the thrill of a fresh kill. He supposed it was easier to go cold turkey with the chip in his head. _Can’t bite with a muzzle on_. The temptation was there but, with his ability to act on it suppressed, the interest in feeding had waned. Spike wondered if he could stop feeding without the sting of his chip—if he really tried. He’d like to think so... with the right motivation. Spike conjured an image of Buffy smiling at him with pride in her eyes. Yeah. All he needed was the right motivation. Spike turned into his cemetery with a hopeful grin. 

As he neared the entrance to his crypt, loud music wafted through the air, disturbing the cemetery’s eerie peace. Spike flexed his jaw and stepped inside the compact building. Harmony and throbbing pop music greeted him. She was moving rhythmically around the room. 

“Harm?!” he shouted over the pulsing beat. 

“Spikey! You’re back early,” Harmony huffed, raising a knee to her chest. “I thought I’d get a quick workout in while you were out.” She jogged toward him and leaped into his arms. “I missed my platinum baby,” she said, raining glossy kisses down his cheeks. 

Her arms were like vice strips gripping him close, strangling him. 

“Harm, stop,” Spike ground out, pulling away. “What the—” He peeled her legs from his waist and set her back on the ground. “What’s all this?” He nodded toward the workout gear strewn about the room. 

“They’re mine. Rusty gave me some workouts to do at home.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. He slouched into his armchair and kicked up his feet. “How’s that going?” he asked with indifference. 

“With Rusty? He’s super,” Harmony gushed. “I know you’d really like him. You know, I can put in a good word for you,” she suggested cuddling into his lap. 

Spike shifted into the cushions and resisted the urge to shove her off his lap. “That’s all right.” He forced his lips into a sharp smile. “You just have your fun with Rusty.” So much fun you decide the grass is looking fluorescent on the other side. 

“Oh, all right,” Harmony pouted, laying her head against his shoulder. “So, where did you go? Who did you see?" she asked, throwing off her melancholy just as quickly as she had put it on. “Did everyone just die at your new look? That jacket looks way better on you than it did that guy from Copy Mania. I think his name was Chad, or maybe it was Chris?” Harmony brushed her hands across his shoulder blades as she tried to recall her last meal. 

“You know,” she went on, “brown really is your color. It brings out your big blue eyes.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” Spike agreed. He knew better than to engage Harmony in a discussion about fashion. He was still coasting on his night with Buffy. 

“So, what did you do?” Harmony asked with a wide grin. 

Spike recalled sitting across from Buffy at the Bronze and tramping around with her through the park. His lips curved into an involuntary smile. “Had myself a real good day.” 


	5. Chapter 5

“Stupid boy clothes!” Glory screeched at her reflection. Missing the snug fit of her own clothes, she grabbed a handful of her baggy shirt and pulled it taut across her midsection. “If I have to look at another polo shirt, I’m going to scream!” 

“Please, your most excellent splendiferous one, let me relieve you of those filthy rags.” Gronx slinked forward, her eyes lowered to the floor. “I have just the thing, a garment worthy of touching your exquisite skin.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Glory snapped, punching her fist through the mirror, shattering the glass into long jagged pieces. She stared at her fragmented reflection and rolled her eyes. “Stupid human mirrors. I hate when that happens.”

Pouting, she stepped down from the carpeted dais. “And stupid Bennie with his stupid clothes.” 

“Yes, yes,” Gronx agreed as she swept up the pieces of the broken mirror. “Curses to Ben!”

Glory yanked off Ben’s oversized shirt and let it fall carelessly to her feet. _Oh, those tricky, tricky monks._ They stole her shiny, beautiful key and stuffed her into a weak human meat-cage while Ben got to have all the fun. It wasn’t fair! If she didn’t spend half her time locked away, she could find the key herself instead of relying on empty-headed scabs. Time was ticking, and she needed her key. 

“How long was I out this time?” she asked, slipping into her favorite fiery red dress. 

Gronx froze, her hand poised over the dustbin, and whispered, “Just two weeks.”

“What?” Glory cupped a hand around her ear. “Speak up, you scab!” 

“T-two weeks, your delightsome, illustrious Glorificus. But, but we are getting close. We’ve been watching the Slayer and her friends, and we think the key might be the witch. She has great power. And the others look to her for—”

“Are you serious right now?” Glory asked, cutting her eyes at Gronx. “It isn’t the witch. She has borrowed power, you moron. This isn’t Hogwarts! This is real life. And, in real life, my key doesn’t need spell books and little magic tricks. It’s raw, untapped energy that you haven’t been able to find while I’ve been trapped in Ben’s hairy, stinky man-body.” 

“We are trying, my—”

“Try harder, or—” Glory stopped. Arguing with a scab-face wouldn’t help. “You know what. I want this done right, so I’ll do it myself.” She stomped to the door and jerked it open. 

“Where are you going, my liege?” Gronx asked, rushing forward. 

“To find my key,” Glory said, breezing out of the apartment. “But first I need new shoes.”

Two weeks. Glory couldn’t believe Ben had kept her caged away for fourteen days. As he grew stronger, her grip on reality weakened; soon, she’d fade away into the ether, becoming nothing more than an afterthought, forgotten by time and history. If Ben would just play nice and cooperate, then she could return to her dimension and forget about the Slayer and her merry band of idiots.

“Now, where can a girl get a good pair of shoes?” Glory asked, stepping into the twilight. 

The scabies usually did her shopping for her, but after being stuck as Ben for two weeks, she decided she needed a little girl time. And a girl couldn’t enjoy a little R&R without a pair of shiny, new shoes. She turned down the now-familiar street and headed toward town. If she hurried, she could catch the stores just before they closed and annoy some poor minimum wage slob right before they planned to lock up. 

Ugh! Pathetic. _The evilest thing I can think of is forcing some kid to work overtime._ She crossed the street into downtown Sunnydale. _Oh, goodie, two whole blocks of mediocrity to choose from_. It made her want to dig some poor helpless human’s eyeballs out and feed them to their dog. 

“Hey, you! Little girls!” she called out to a trio of passing teenagers. “Where can a girl get a good designer pump around here?” 

The teens gave Glory a quick once-over and pointed to a boutique two doors down. “Try _Tip Toes_. They have the cutest shoes,” the tallest girl replied. “And they’re having a sale today.” 

Glory smiled, deciding the girl could keep her eyeballs. “Sale? That’s better.”

Soft piano music greeted her as she stepped inside. Customers browsed the tasteful displays and tried on designer shoes. Glory inhaled the scent of leather and money and grinned. Earth was about two pit stops away from squalor, but it had its perks. In her element, she strolled inside and took a seat. 

“You there!” she called out to a clerk. “Bring me shoes. And keep them coming,” she added, snapping her fingers. 

“I just love your dress.” A cheery voice came from beside her. 

Glory turned to the vampire, and the corners of her lips spread into a bright smile. “This old thing? I only wear it when I’m not even trying.” 

“Well, it kills. I’m Harmony, by the way. And you must be new in town. I never forget a face, especially a well-moisturized one.” 

“You noticed! God, it’s so hard to meet people with a good skin care regimen around here. You should see the ghouls I live with.” 

“Oh, my god! I know exactly what you mean,” Harmony gushed with excitement. “It’s like, hello, I may be dead, but I can still exfoliate.” 

“Tell me about it,” Glory said, rolling her eyes. She paused, observing the vampire beside her. “I’m Glorificus, but all my minions call me Glory.” 

“Glory,” Harmony repeated, her brow creased in thought. “I’ve heard that name before.” 

“Probably around town. God and all.” Glory took a box of shoes from the store clerk and shooed her along. “I bet you don’t get too many of those around Sunnydale, do you?” 

“Pfft, no. It’s all slime and puke monsters around here. But, wow, a real-life god. So, do I, like, curtsey or something?” 

“I prefer shameless groveling, but I’m incognito today.” 

“Oh, right,” Harmony giggled. “My boyfriend will never believe I met a god. Not that he would care anyway.” Harmony pouted, squeezing her foot into a hot pink stiletto. “It’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

“Tell me about it.” Glory rolled her eyes and threw down the empty shoe box. “My guy thinks his life is so much more important than mine.

“Men.” Harmony shook her head. “I swear, a few months ago, he was so hot for me. Now it’s all the Slayer this, and the Slayer that. Slayer, Slayer, Slayer,” she mimicked. “He even makes me dress up like her and do stuff.”

Glory froze. “You’re friends with the Slayer?” 

Harmony laughed. “Hardly. We’re mortal enemies. My gang and I almost took her out a few months back, but I decided to let her live.” 

“Mortal enemies, you say…” Glory surveyed her skeptically. 

The Slayer was nothing—less than nothing—but she doubted the bubble brain in pink leather was any threat to her. Still, she might know something. 

“Yeah, we fight,” Harmony said. “Sometimes I win—well, most of the time I win, she loses. You know how it goes.” She waved her hand. 

“Riiight,” Glory dragged out the word. “So, how long have you known the Slayer?” 

“Oh, me and Buffy, we go way back. She used to be the biggest loser in school, followed me around like a stray puppy, begging to be my friend.” Harmony grabbed another box of shoes and admired a pair of wedges.

“So, you know all about Buffy?” Glory asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, yeah. As her mortal enemy, I’ve studied her for like… a really long time.”

Glory leaned closer. “Have you ever seen her with a key or heard her mention something about finding one?” 

Harmony frowned. “Well, duh, yeah. How else would she get inside of her house?”

Glory let out a frustrated growl and shredded a wad of tissue paper. “Hopeless.”

Harmony stared at her with wide, blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Forget I even asked,” Glory said, no longer interested in trying on shoes. 

“Well, um, if you ever need help with that key thing…” Harmony offered half-heartedly. 

“Sure thing, blondie,” Glory said, marching toward the door. She paused and turned to Harmony again. “Oh, and a little word of advice. Dump the jerk.” 

“Who?” Harmony asked, confused. 

“That boyfriend of yours. If he’s not worshipping the ground you walk on, he’s just wasting your time."

It was late by the time Glory reached her apartment. She took a step forward and felt the ground lurch under her feet. The world grew wavy, tossing her insides from left to right. 

“No, no, no, no!” Glory screamed, digging her nails into the fleshy part of her arms. “Go away!” she ground out, trying to force Ben back inside. “I’m not ready to go—”

“Back,” Ben finished, steadying his balance. He looked down at his torn dress and busted shoes and sighed. “Not again,” he muttered, hurrying into Glory’s apartment building.

+++

_Civil unrest traveled throughout the colonies as the British continued to enforce stringent—stringent is a good word, right?_ Buffy tapped her pen across her teeth and let out a frustrated groan. “Stupid American Revolution.” She took her pen and scribbled thick black swirls across her paper. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against her books and sighed.

“Ah, the American Revolution. I remember it fondly.” Anya looked up from her ledger. “There was this one guy,” she said with a slight snicker, “his wife wished that he’d get smallpox and—”

“As much as we love tales of communicable diseases,” Xander interjected, “let’s save that one for another time, shall we, hun?” 

“But this was a really good one.” Anya pouted. “I’m sure Buffy would enjoy it. She spends eighty-five percent of her time covered in pus and guts.” 

“No, I don’t,” Buffy said, lifting her head. “Guts maybe, but not so much with the pus.” 

“Oh, all right.” Giles walked around the display counter. “Enough with the pus and guts; Buffy has a paper to write. Are you sure you wouldn’t be able to concentrate better in the back room?”

Buffy sighed. “Thanks for trying, Giles, but it’s a hopeless case,” she said, packing up her books. “History belongs in the past for a reason.” 

“Yes, well,” Giles murmured. “Do you mind if I…?” He nodded toward her paper. 

“Sure, but it ain’t pretty,” Buffy warned, handing him the scribbled sheet of paper. 

Giles frowned and brought the paper close to his face. “Oh, dear,” he muttered, looking up at Buffy, then down again. “Well, it has—”

“It’s okay. I still have forty-eight whole hours before it’s due.” Buffy tucked her scratch paper back into the folds of her textbook. 

Ugh. She had until 11:59 Friday night to turn in a five-page paper, and all she’d managed to write so far was a paragraph. Maybe it wasn’t too late to drop the class. If she withdrew now, she could walk away from Cringle’s class with a WP. Buffy’s stomach rolled at the thought of quitting. School had never been a priority in the past, but going to college was her chance to prove to herself—and everyone else—there was more to her than slaying. She was multifaceted. Layered. A can-do kind of girl. 

“Perhaps you can ask for an extension?” Giles suggested, sympathy reflected in his eyes. 

“This is my extension,” Buffy said, pouting. 

“Oh, well, I don’t doubt that you can do it, Buffy. Just put your mind to it.” 

That drew a crooked smile. “Ah, I know I’m in trouble when you break out the pithy motivational quotes. And that one even rhymed.” 

“I knew it!” Anya yelped, slamming her palm on the display counter. 

Buffy turned to the commotion. “What did the bad counter do this time?”

“The ledger is coming up short,” Anya explained, frantically turning the pages of her book. “I’ve run the numbers three times.” 

“P-perhaps I should look at it,” Giles said, reaching for the ledger.

Anya snatched it off the counter and clutched it to her chest protectively. “Why? Do you think I’m making a mistake with the money?”

“Of course not, but mistakes happen, Anya.” 

Anya caressed the supple leather before reluctantly offering it to Giles. “Oh, fine. But let the record show that I take excellent care of our money. I feed it more money to help it grow. And sometimes I even talk to it. It’s like a plant. Only more useful.” 

Giles gingerly pried the book out of Anya’s hand and studied the numbers. “Well, it appears we are a bit short.” 

“See! I told you!” Anya said, looking to Xander for back up. 

Xander beamed with pride. “My baby has a way with numbers.”

“Baby?” Buffy furrowed her brow at him.

“What? I’m trying something new,” Xander said with a shrug. 

“Don’t,” Buffy advised. 

“There’s been a discrepancy over the past few weeks.” Giles frowned as he flipped through the pages. 

“See,” Anya said, “look at the inventory column. Teas, oils, herbs. All unaccounted for.” 

“I bet it was Spike,” Xander said with disgust. “He’s always skulking around with his sticky fingers, looking for a good ol’ five-finger discount.” 

“Xander’s right!” Anya agreed. “He was in here the other day, looking around with his shifty little eyes. And, when he’s not touching artifacts priced way above his means, he—”

“It was me!” Buffy piped up.

“What?!” Giles, Xander, and Anya said in unison. 

Hesitantly, Buffy stepped forward and nodded at the book in Giles’ hand. “The uh, with the teas and oils. That was me,” Buffy said, surprising herself. “I, umm, I took them.” 

Xander’s lips parted in a surprised “o” of shock, while Giles stared at her dumbfounded. 

“Thief!” Anya broke the silence, pointing an accusing finger at Buffy. 

“Calm down, Anya, I’m sure Buffy has a good explanation. Was it for a... a spell? Some kind of Slayer-related business?”

“Oh, right.” Anya pouted. “Take up for Buffy the Watcher’s pet.” 

Buffy shifted from foot to foot. She’d never stolen anything in her life. Well, there was the one time with the lipstick... and then that time with Faith. But it wasn’t something she actually _did_! And yet, when Xander had accused Spike of stealing—a seemingly valid accusation—a “confession” had come pouring out. 

Buffy wasn’t sure why she was taking the rap for Spike. A few days ago, she would have gladly hopped on the blame train right along with Xander and Anya, but now all she could recall was the night they spent together at the park. She didn’t want to admit it, but having him near made her feel... safe. 

“No, nothing Slayer-related,” Buffy said with a nervous waiver in her voice. An image of her mom brewing some of Spike’s stolen tea came to mind. “My mom... she mentioned something about natural remedies. And I thought—”

“You’d steal from me!” Anya demanded. Then glanced at Giles and corrected, “Us.” 

“I was going to pay you back. Sorta like an IOU.” Buffy twisted her fingers together, and looked from one friend to another. 

“While your intentions were noble, Buffy, stealing is—”

“Hey,” Xander chimed in, “let’s cut Buffy some slack.” 

“Why? Because her mother is sick and might die?” Anya scoffed. 

“Ahn!” Xander turned a bright shade of pink. “Buffy, she didn’t mean—” 

“Yes, she did,” Buffy said quietly. “And she’s right. That’s not an excuse to steal. I’ll pay it back. Just tell me what I owe.”

“Good. I’ll run the bill, and we can settle the difference right away.” Anya grinned, grabbing her calculator. 

“It’s all right, Anya. We’ll give Buffy store credit this time.”

“But, but—” Anya protested. 

Xander placed his hands on Anya’s shoulders and led her toward the back of the store. Buffy looked down at the floor, staring at a notch in the wood by her feet. She could feel Giles’ disappointment thickening the air between them and hated that he thought she had stolen from The Magic Shop—from him. 

“Is everything all right?” Giles asked, his concern evident. 

“Yeah,” Buffy lied. “Everything’s peachy.” 

“I know you have a lot to contend with.” Giles studied her for a moment. If there’s anything I can do—"

“I know,” Buffy said. “And you’ve already done a lot... for me.” Buffy gathered her books in her arms. “I’m sorry about all the crime,” she said, attempting levity. “I promise I’ll pay you back.” 

“Don’t worry,” Giles said, giving her a knowing look. “I’ve already added it to Spike’s tab.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in shock. “But—”

“Security cameras.” 

“Oh,” Buffy said, her lips parting in question. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” Giles prodded. 

Buffy smiled and shook her head. There wasn’t anything to talk about. Spike helped her out the other night, and she did him a solid with her friends. That was it. 

“I’ve got to get home. Mom and Dawn... besides, this paper isn’t going to write itself,” Buffy said, heading toward the door. 

“Right. Yes.” Giles hesitated. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will.” 

+++

Buffy circled the perimeter of Restfield Cemetery for the second time and debated whether she should venture beyond the iron gates and patrol inside. Because, Buffy reminded herself, vampires usually rise from their graves inside the cemetery.

There were eleven other perfectly good cemeteries in Sunnydale, but somehow she had found herself outside of Spike’s with a stake and her history book in hand. Tonight wasn’t the first time Buffy had combined slayage and cramming. They were like peanut butter and jelly. Ham and cheese. Bangers and mash—whatever they were. But this time, the pressure was on. She had less than two days until her paper was due, and so far all she had eked out was a page of incoherent gibberish. 

Conflicted, Buffy glanced back and forth between the cemetery and the street. She could have gone to Shadyhill. It was nicer and catered to a more refined clientele, but it was missing one thing: a bleached blonde vampire who had offered to help with her homework.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Buffy sighed and shoved open the heavy gates. 

She walked down one moss-covered path, then another, dawdling at the Haverford monument for a few minutes before moving onto the next. She thought about the night she’d spent with Spike at the Bronze, then later searching for Glory in the park. On a whim, she had given him a chance—sort of a test to prove himself—and he’d actually passed. With flying colors, Buffy acknowledged, surprising herself. He’d been... sweet. Buffy frowned and shook her head. Spike and sweet were two words that didn’t seem to belong together. But here she was, standing a few feet from his crypt, hoping his offer was still on the table. 

“Slayer?”

Startled, Buffy turned.

He had reverted to his black t-shirt and leather duster. Buffy bit back a smile; turns out, she preferred this look over the button-up and khakis. She studied him for a moment, taking in the arch of his cheekbones and startling blue eyes. He smiled, and Buffy couldn’t help but notice the supple curve of his lips and recall how they had felt against hers. She swallowed audibly, ignoring the simmer of physical attraction brewing.

Spike shifted his weight, transferring a brown paper shopping bag to his other hip. 

“Hey.” Her voice was soft. 

“Hey.” Spike mirrored her tone. 

“I was... out,” Buffy began, “patrolling, and I thought you might be around. The other night, you mentioned that you might have some time to, uh, help me with my history paper.” She shifted nervously under his gaze.

“Sure,” Spike said. “Let me—” He lifted his paper bag. 

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy said, stepping to her right as Spike did the same. “Sorry,” she laughed nervously, moving to the left with Spike. 

“I’ll just go this way.” Spike pointed to her right side, this time stepping around her with ease. 

Buffy waited until Spike disappeared into the mausoleum and let out a long stream of breath. _Awkward_ , she cringed, shaking her head. Maybe this was a mistake. 

“Thought we might need one of these,” Spike said, returning a few minutes later with a blanket in his hand. "Not too many places to sit out here. Would suggest the crypt, but you mentioned patrol." 

Buffy studied him for a moment. Were those nerves in his voice? She sensed Spike had some kind of... thing for her. But she figured it was a phase. They had spent a lot of time together after he had escaped the Initiative, and it was easy to mistake mercy for attraction. A sardonic voice danced in the back of Buffy’s mind: Right, that’s what this is. 

“Uh, yeah. So…” Buffy looked around the empty cemetery. 

“We can set up over there,” Spike said, nodding toward a fresh grave. “Don’t think it’s a vampire, but you never know.” 

Buffy gave a slight nod and followed him. He had taken off his duster, and she watched the cords in his arms as he spread his blanket on the grass. 

“Ladies, first.” Spike gestured for her to sit. 

Hesitating, Buffy looked from Spike to the blanket. This was really happening? She was about to sit down in a cemetery with Spike, and he was going to help her with homework. There was a joke here, but she didn’t know the punchline. 

“Don’t worry, I washed it,” Spike assured, rolling his eyes. 

Buffy suppressed a laugh and sat on the rough, gray cloth. Busying herself, she slid a few crumpled sheets of paper from the pages of her textbook and handed them to Spike. 

“I know it’s a mess.” Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I’m usually better at this,” she rushed. “You know, with the paper-writing.” 

Spike furrowed his brow as he studied the handwritten scratch paper for a moment. “You’re fine,” he encouraged her. His tone was all business. “May I?” He motioned to her pen. 

“Oh, right! You’re probably going to need one of these.”

“Now, the American Revolution was about a century before my time,” Spike warned, “but I know enough to get you through.” 

“That’s fine. It’s kind of a hopeless cause, anyway.” 

Spike grunted softly, circling some parts and underlining others. “This is quite good,” he muttered several minutes later. 

Buffy squared her shoulders and smiled. Wait, did his accent change? She watched as Spike scribbled a note in the margin before drawing a dark black line through an entire paragraph. 

“I was trying for a motif there.” She cringed as he made another note. 

Spike looked up from his handiwork. “It’s not half-bad actually,” he said, reverting to his familiar accent. “A few grammatical and structural issues here and there, but you’re off to a solid start.” Spike glanced down at his notes. “Where’s the rest of it?” 

Buffy’s eyes darted toward an old mossy grave, then back to his. “You’re looking at all I’ve got,” she said with a sheepish smile. 

Spike gave her a curt nod. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, Slayer,” Spike said, grinning at her. “I mean if you want.” 

His smile was infectious, making Buffy forget she was supposed to hate him. “I want,” Buffy said, returning his smile. “To-to finish,” she added. 

“Right then.” He climbed to his feet. “I’ll just take care of that,” he said, nodding beyond her shoulder. 

Buffy looked behind her at a vampire stalking toward them, fangs bared. “No, you read. I’ll take care of him.” Buffy grabbed a stake and leaped to her feet.

“I don’t have time for this,” she ground out, knocking the vampire across the face with her forearm. 

“Well, excuse the hell out of me,” the vampire lisped. “I was just out for a walk. You started hitting me.” 

“Right, you were out for a nice friendly stroll through the cemetery,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. She kicked the vampire in his chest. 

“Uh, you’re out here,” the vampire snapped.

Buffy ducked under his punch. “Well, that’s different. Hello, Slayer here.” 

“The slayer?” The vampire furrowed his bumpy brow. 

“Hi,” Buffy said with a grin, clocking him in the face. 

The vampire stumbled backward, allowing Buffy to drive her stake through his heart. Coughing, Buffy waved a hand across her face and rejoined Spike on the blanket. 

“All right,” he said, passing her the textbook. “You’ve got some solid points, but let’s concentrate on this section right here,” he said, pointing at his corrections. 

Buffy leaned in close; her fingers brushed against Spike’s and lingered for a moment before she pulled them away. Buffy cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. 

“Okay.” Buffy grabbed her notebook and pen. “Let’s get book-crackin’,” she said in what she hoped was a casual tone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! I fell behind on posting here, so I am about to spam chapters 6-13.

He still couldn’t believe Buffy had taken him up on his offer. Throughout the night, he’d had to remind himself not to go bollixing everything up by saying something stupid. Easy to do where Buffy Summers was concerned; he often found himself the target of her ire without realizing how he’d gotten there. Being careful to stay on her good side, he had kept the conversation focused on her history assignment and let her take the lead. 

“I wonder what America would be like if the colonists hadn’t rebelled against Britain?” she mused during a break in writing. “Like, would we use pounds instead of dollars? Drink tea instead of coffee? Oh, and the metric system? What’s the deal with that?” 

Spike looked up from her paper and smiled. “People drink coffee in Britain, pet.” 

“Oh, well, that’s good to know. I can’t imagine a world without mocha frappuccinos and whip cream.” 

“And the chocolate drizzle on top,” Spike added. “Don’t forget that.” 

“Now I have a craving for a delicious, frozen caffeinated treat,” Buffy said with a pout. 

Spike’s gaze drifted toward Buffy’s lips, and he recalled the sensation of kissing her pouts away. He had a craving too, but it wasn’t for coffee. The object of his desire had green eyes with flecks of honey, soft curls, and a sharp tongue. Spike imagined the verbal beating he’d receive if Buffy knew what he was thinking, and shifted on the blanket. _Don’t think about her lips. Think of bloody anything else. Think of: Xander!_ He panicked, conjuring up the image of his former roommate. _There! Much better._

“Spike? Are you okay?”

Blinking, he lifted the crinkled sheets of paper and snapped them straight. “Yeah, just givin’ this another pass,” he croaked, forcing his mind away from thoughts of Buffy and chocolate drizzle. 

“Oh, pass away,” Buffy encouraged, waving her hands in a forward motion. “Don’t let me distract you.” 

_Too late._

++++

Several hours later, with all of the corrections made, Spike reread the last paragraph and sighed. They were done—the only thing left for Buffy to do was type the sodding thing—so their time together was ending.

Spike smelled the sun just beyond the horizon and glanced down at Buffy. While lying in repose, she seemed so at peace. Perhaps sleep was the only time she could just... be. Transfixed by her steady breathing, he took a moment to watch. She looked beautiful, resting with her hands pillowed beneath her cheeks.

A tendril of her flaxen hair fell across her face, giving him the perfect opportunity to tuck it behind her ear. Resisting the urge, he placed his hand on her shoulder and softly called her name instead. “Buffy.” Rousing her, he repeated, “Buffy.”

“Spike?” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Buffy looked around, confused. 

“It’s done,” he said, handing her the sheets of loose-leaf paper. 

“How long was I asleep?” 

Spike looked up at the sky. “Not too long, but the sun’ll be up soon.” 

“Oh my god,” Buffy said, hastily snatching up her books. “I can’t believe I stayed out all night.” 

Disappointed, Spike watched as she stuffed her assignment into her textbook and climbed to her feet. With their transaction complete, there was no telling when he’d see her again. As much as he liked to fantasize about Buffy, he had no delusions about tonight. She hadn’t paid him a social call; this wasn’t a casual visit between friends. He had offered a service, and she had taken advantage of it. 

“Didn’t mean to keep you,” he said, glancing down at his boots. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean it like—” Shaking her head, she blew out a gush of air and amended, “Thank you.”

Spike looked up, surprised by the warmth of her tone."’S nothin’." 

“No, I couldn’t have finished this without your help tonight. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but, really, thank you. 

Spike watched incredulously as she rummaged through her bag. 

“Here,” she said, thrusting a few folded bills at him. 

Spike froze and stared at the money. He was used to this kind of quid pro quo between them, but this time he had expected nothing in return. He’d offered to help because he wanted to help her. He wanted to be near her. If that meant spending a few hours editing a tedious report, he’d gladly do it again. 

“I wasn’t expectin’—“ He waved the payment away. 

“But you helped me. Take it,” Buffy insisted, thrusting her hand forward again. 

If he took the money, they’d be square. She’d go about business and wouldn’t think of him again until she needed information on one thing or another. Reluctant to let her go that easily, Spike shook his head. 

“Well, it’s not like I had anything better to do,” he said, shrugging. “Keep your money, Slayer. Save it for the next time you _really_ need a favor.” 

Buffy was quiet as she studied him for a moment. Hesitatingly, she said, “Okay,” and her lips curved into a crooked smile. “We’re reading _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ in my lit class. You wouldn’t happen to have an opinion about those singing gargoyles, would you?" 

Spike furrowed his brow, not knowing if he should be amused or horrified. 

“I’m kidding,” she assured him. “Anyway, I should be…” She pointed toward the front gate.

“Yeah,” Spike said, stepping aside. 

He watched Buffy take her leave, following her retreat until she turned the corner and disappeared from view. 

++++

Spike couldn’t shake the loneliness that was contributing to his morose mood. He had enjoyed his time with the Slayer and hoped she would call on him again, but the weekend had come and gone, and still no Buffy. Perhaps if Harmony had been around, he wouldn’t have noticed Buffy’s absence as much, but he hadn’t heard from his on-again-and-off-again girlfriend in days. _Thank god for small miracles_ , he thought, busying himself with the television antenna. In fact, he hadn’t seen Harmony since the day of his study date with Buffy. She’d been yammering on about catching some shoe sale, and she hadn’t come back to his crypt since. He hoped she would never come back again. 

Things were easy with Harmony—annoying, but easy. He didn’t want easy. He wanted passion and love and sex that left him quivering. For years, Dru had been that force of nature in his life, taking him to heights of passion he hadn’t known existed. But Dru had been the prototype—Buffy was the one.

So, while sex with Harmony was easy, he wanted love with Buffy. Spike realized he might have painted himself in a corner with the Slayer. _How do you get someone to trust you when your introduction included death threats?_ Spike wished there was a way he could show her he had changed—or at least that he wanted to change. The new clothes were stupid—surface-level drivel she had hardly noticed. Anyone could put on some fancy duds and pretend to be something they weren’t. That was acting. He needed to show her that this was no act. This was the real him. But there was no quick fix for that. 

“Sodding piece of junk,” Spike muttered, smacking the side of the old television. 

A few seconds later, the static cleared, and an attractive field reporter came on screen. 

_“... Sources confirm six people found dead on an inbound train at the Sunnydale Station. Details are limited as local authorities work to identify the bodies. We’ll keep you posted as more information surfaces. I’m April O’Neal, reporting for Channel Three Action News.”_

“Six dead,” Spike repeated, stroking his jaw. The news was hazy on the details, but he was willing to bet none of those people had died of natural causes. 

_Glory._ She was the type of nutter who would kill a train full of innocent people just to send Buffy a message. Spike recalled his brief encounter with the hell-god. His bones had ached for days after she had tossed him aside like a rag doll. _The bitch was strong but not too bright,_ Spike thought, slipping into his leather duster. Pissing Buffy off never ended well for anyone who challenged her, god or not. But there had to be some way of stopping her before anyone else got hurt. 

+++

Information. Aside from the bits he'd learned from Buffy, he didn’t know much about Glory other than that she packed a mean punch. She was a god, but no one was indestructible. A simple piece of wood could end a vampire’s existence. Silver bullets and beheadings worked on most creatures. So what was Glory’s kryptonite? If he could get that information, there’d be no denying his value to the Slayer and her friends. 

“Spike, my main vamp! Long time, no see,” Willy greeted him as he stepped into the demon haven. 

Spike glanced around the dimly lit bar, ignoring the hostile stares from some of his peers. He had made a reputation for himself over the past few months; he was no longer a friendly face. Spike strolled past a table of vampires and took his usual spot at the bar. 

“I’m sure you already know the rules, but I have to remind you, this is a no staking zone,” Willy said, placing a double shot glass in front of him. “So, what can I get you?” 

“Information.” Spike brushed the glass aside. 

“Now, Spike, I know it’s been a while since you visited this fine establishment, but things are a little different around here. I’m going for a more classy ambiance.” Willy hitched his chin at a chalkboard menu nailed to the wall. “We’ve got tapas now.” 

Spike read the sign boasting fried pickles, pigs in a blanket, and potato skins. “Fancy,” he said dryly. Then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “There’s a new player in town. Goes by the name Glory. Calls herself a god. Heard of her?” 

Willy grabbed a dish towel and began drying one of his pitchers. “Nah, can’t say that I have.”

Spike crossed his arms over his chest. “You sure about that?” he prodded. “Saw something on the news about a train full of dead people…”

“And you think this Glory chick might have something to do with it?” 

“Yeah, seems like a page out of her playbook.” 

Willy shook his head. “Nah, it wasn’t your girl. These were vampires.”

“Vampires? How do you know?” 

Willy leaned an elbow on the bar, closing the gap between them. “First one’s free,” he spoke under his breath. “Rent ain’t cheap around here.” 

Rolling his eyes, Spike pulled out a small wad of cash and placed it in Willy’s open palm. “Tell me about the train.” 

“Well, you know, typical vampire M.O. Puncture wounds on the neck, severe hematoma, loss of blood. So, unless this Glory is a vampire, I’m guessing it wasn’t her.” 

Damn. Vampires. He’d been so eager to track Glory that he hadn’t considered the possibility the train had nothing to do with her. “How many were there?” he asked, annoyed with himself. 

“Not sure. I heard there’s a new nest down by the station. Easy pickings, you know. People come into town, and they’ve got home delivery.” 

“Right.” Spike slid off the stool. 

“Leaving so soon?” Willy called out.

He hadn’t encountered a vampire’s nest since the night he and Buffy had found soldier-boy getting sucked off. It wasn’t the information he had come to Willy’s for, but why let a good spot of violence go to waste? He’d keep his ear to the ground; something would come up about Glory sooner or later. In the meantime, he had a nest to take out. 

+++

Jinx sat huddled in a corner at Willy’s bar, enjoying the pungent aroma of demon, sweat, and grease. Gingerly, he took a sip of grog and glanced around. Drinking was forbidden under Glory’s watchful eyes, but tonight he was trying to blend in. She had tasked him with finding the key, and he would not fail his Glorificus again. 

For weeks he had watched the Slayer, cataloging her movements. The key was important. It would be something she regarded as precious. Because the monks had entrusted the Slayer to guard it with her life, she would keep it safe. 

Jinx knew the Slayer would never reveal the key’s true nature, but maybe her friends could shed some light on the matter. After watching the witches, he’d learned that human women were very affectionate, especially toward the ones they held above all others. Jinx had made a mental note to pay closer attention to the Slayer. Although it seemed as if she held all her friends in high regard. She was always touching and hugging them for one reason or another. 

Growing bored with the women, Jinx had come upon the one they called Spike and followed him to the tavern. Jinx had edged closer to the bar and heard something about a nest. It appeared that Spike was interested in birds. Jinx didn’t know if that information was valuable, but he made a note of it. This time when he reported back to Glory, he would be prepared to tell her everything he knew about the Slayer and her friends.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for stopping by and continuing this story with me. I have a few notes for you. There are some familiar scenes and dialogue in this chapter from the episode "Crush." The context of the dialogue has changed somewhat in my version. I know some of you were expecting Dru right about now We aren't quite there yet, but she'll pop up in one capacity or the other.

Buffy stood outside Spike’s crypt, clutching a worn copy of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_. One minute she had been reading in her room, and the next, she was knocking at the vampire’s door. Buffy gave it another hard rap and waited. A few minutes later, a scowling and shirtless Spike jerked the door open. 

“What the bloody— Slayer?” 

Mouth dry, Buffy’s eyes roamed his compact physique, admiring every hard muscle on his body. Her gaze trailed down his torso, below the abs, until she reached the angled dip of his tight obliques. 

“I know it’s late,” Buffy stammered, dragging her eyes back to his face. “But I have this thing for school. The Hunchback…” 

Spike lifted a brow and flexed his jaw into a sultry smirk. “Yeah?” he asked, trailing his eyes over her. He opened his door wider, revealing the inside of his crypt.

Her eyes homed in on his concrete slab; draped with a pink blanket, it called to her. She swallowed and stepped inside the dim mausoleum. The smell of candle wax, tobacco, and Spike filled her senses, turning her knees to jelly. 

“Were you expecting anyone?” she asked, nerves evident in her voice. 

Spike closed the door and stalked toward her, forcing Buffy to take a step back. “I’m all by my lonesome, pet.” Spike nodded at the slab behind her. “Was doing a bit of readin’.” 

Afraid to take her eyes off him, Buffy backed up another inch and licked her lips.

Spike’s eyes followed the path of her tongue. “I’ve always been a fan of the classics,” he said, reaching for the book in her hand and tossing it aside. His fingers caressed hers. 

She shivered and lowered her eyelids. “Oh?” she managed as he pressed against her. He took her hand and raised her palm to his lips. Their eyes locked, and he kissed her skin, sending sparks of pleasure to the center of her body. 

“Touch me, Slayer,” Spike demanded, placing her hand on his chest. 

“I shouldn’t; this is wrong.” Her voice lacked conviction. “You’re bad.”

“I am bad. I’m the big bad. And you like it.” He flashed her a dangerous smirk. “Touch me,” he commanded.

Buffy explored his body with eager hands and lips. Spike’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her close. Emboldened by his groans of pleasure, her hands grew more daring. 

“Spike,” she moaned. 

Angling his mouth over hers, Spike captured her lips in a fiery kiss. Heat coursed through her body as his tongue mated with hers in a pagan dance that sent a jolt of pleasure up her spine. She was so hot. Her skin burned everywhere Spike touched.

Yes! Yes! Spike—! her mind screamed over the sound of loud beeping.

Beeping? 

“Buffy! The pancakes are burning!” Dawn screeched, pointing at the smoky stove. 

Blinking, Buffy looked around her kitchen. “Huh?” 

“Dawn, grab the broom and wave it under the smoke detector,” Joyce instructed as she opened the kitchen door. “Buffy, take the pan off the burner.” 

“Oh, god, sorry,” Buffy dumped the blackened disk into the trash and placed the skillet in the sink, where the remaining butter popped and sizzled into a low hiss. 

“There, that’s better,” Joyce said, fanning the air with a dishcloth. “Buffy, are you okay?” 

“I guess you guys aren’t a fan of cajun style flapjacks,” Buffy said with a rueful smile. “Sorry, Dawn. I must have spaced out.” 

And by spaced out, she meant had a racy daydream about a certain bleached blonde vampire she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind. _Enough with the lusty thoughts of lust! This was Spike!_ The Spike who had, on several occasions, tried to kill her. The Spike who had threatened to murder her friends and family. The Spike who had taken a perverse pleasure in causing her pain. That Spike! She shouldn’t have kissing fantasies about Spike. 

Frustrated, Buffy flicked off the stove with an angry twist of her wrist and turned on the overhead fan. He was also the Spike who had helped save Dawn and brought her mother (stolen) tea. And helped me with my homework. No, she couldn’t forget that part. She recalled the night they had spent working on her paper. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from him, but that was the Spike she got that night. 

That version of Spike was... charming and funny. Several times, she’d forgotten that, only a short time ago, they had been trading blows rather than witty banter. 

He made her laugh. 

He also made her work, Buffy mused with a crooked smile. He was a diligent tutor who had taken his role seriously. She’d lost count of the times she had written a paragraph, and Spike had made her do it over until it was just right. 

“You’re gonna ace this sodding report, Slayer,” he’d said while glancing up from her paper with a sparkle in his eye. 

When he said it, she believed him. 

And that’s why she had put distance between them at the end of the night. Offering him money had been her way of setting boundaries and unblurring those lines. 

“Maybe next time we should leave Big Breakfast Saturdays to Mom,” Dawn suggested, pulling down a box of cheerios from the cabinet. 

“The morning’s not over! You know what they say: if at first, you don’t succeed—” 

“Grab a bowl and eat some cereal?” Dawn placed the cheerios in front of Joyce and picked up the milk. “Say when,” she instructed. 

Joyce touched a hand to Dawn’s cheek and smiled. “You girls are so sweet. I know I haven’t been up to our usual Saturday routine, but I promise I’ll get there soon. And, when I do, I’m going to put IHOP to shame.” 

“It’ll be a pancake palooza,” Buffy said, forcing cheer in her voice. She hated seeing her mom so tired. 

“Oh! We could have different toppings and everything!” Dawn added with excitement. 

_Focus._ She needed to focus and be in the moment. Isn’t that what Giles said during their training sessions? Well, she couldn’t do either of those things while fantasizing about Spike. She closed her eyes and instantly recalled the unwelcomed image of Spike standing shirtless in the middle of his crypt, surrounded by candles. Heat crept up her neck and warmed her cheeks at the memory of touching his bare chest. She could almost feel the pressure of his mouth on hers as he stroked her with his tongue. Absently, she caressed her lips with her fingertips and sighed. 

_No! No sighing. Spike lips. Lips of Spike! Remember._ She couldn’t let a few good nights with Spike cloud her judgment. _People change, Buffy,_ the irritating voice in the back of her mind reminded her. Yes, people could change, but Spike was not people. He was bad. 

The big bad. 

Buffy grabbed the charred pan and scrubbed the burnt food away vigorously. Her mind flashed to Spike’s chiseled abs, making her scrub harder. She had to stop thinking of Spike in that way. It didn’t matter if he was funny and charming and nice. There were plenty of guys in Sunnydale with rock hard abs. There were plenty of guys in Sunnydale. Ben! He was a guy who lived in Sunnydale. She forced the image of the doctor to mind. He seemed nice enough. Normal.

Buffy turned off the faucet and looked at her mother. _Or how about no guy?_ Dating was not high on her list of priorities at the moment. And, as much as she tried, she didn’t have a normal life. She didn’t get to go on dates with guys like Ben. He was nice, and she was the Slayer. And Spike, well, he was— She wasn’t sure what Spike was up to, but she knew she couldn’t allow herself to fall for his charms. She would not think about Spike for the entire weekend. This was a no Spike zone.

With her paper turned in, there was no reason to think about Spike. Or his abs. Or his lips. 

_Well, maybe his abs._

“Um, Buffy?” Dawn said, waving her hand in front of Buffy’s face. 

“Yes, Spike— I mean, Dawn! Dawn. My sister, Dawn.” 

“Uh, we were thinking of making this a Disney Marathon day,” Dawn said, giving Buffy an odd look. “You know, since I’ve never actually seen any of those movies.” 

“Yeah! Sounds great,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. 

“Yay!” Dawn clapped her hands together. “I’ll fire up the VCR.”

Joyce shrugged and wrapped an arm around Buffy’s shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, guiding Buffy into the living room. 

++++

“Woah, Buffy, you got an A-minus,” Willow squealed. “Check out the brain on you!”

“Congratulations, Buffy,” Tara added.

Buffy gave a crooked grin. “And look, it even says ‘very good paper’ at the top.” 

And, thanks to a certain vampire with surprisingly high standards, Buffy was certain she had retained about 85 percent of the stuff she had written.

“I knew you could do it, Buff,” Willow said as they walked to class. “And you’ll ace the test tomorrow.” 

“Oh, don’t remind me. It’s like all our professors conspired to quiz us the same week.” 

“It shouldn’t be that bad. Tomorrow’s history and lit. Two birds,” Tara said. “I think I’ll write my short-answer on Quasimodo’s selfish motivations.” 

“Oh, but he loved her,” Willow sniffed. "They could have the wedding right there beneath the very bell tower where he labored thanklessly for all those years.”

“No, see, it can’t- it can’t end like that, ’cause all of Quasimodo’s actions were selfishly motivated. He had no moral compass, no understanding of right. Everything he did, he did out of love for a woman who would never be able to love him back,” Tara said, stopping at a vending machine. 

_But what if his actions weren’t selfish? What if he did those things because he really cared for Esmeralda? And morals, well, those could be learned, right?_

Willow handed Tara a quarter. “What do you think, Buffy?” 

“Huh? Oh.” Buffy blinked. “The test isn’t till tomorrow, right? I don’t have an opinion till then.” 

“But you read it, right?” 

“I watched it over the weekend,” Buffy said with a shrug. 

Tara fished her snack out of the vending machine. “Oh, with, um, with Charles Laughton?” 

“Nope, George Costanza. We did Disney on Saturday.” 

“Oh boy.” Willow gave Buffy a worried look as they walked down the hall. 

++++

Studying was a bust. No matter how hard Buffy tried to concentrate, she couldn’t stop thinking about Quasimodo. Tara believed his self-interest motivated his devotion to Esmeralda, but Buffy wasn’t sure she agreed. She couldn’t think of a single thing he got out of their relationship other than heartache. And the thing about morals, well, didn’t love make you do the wacky? 

Buffy stared at the A-minus scribbled at the top of her history paper. What did Spike get out of helping her? He wouldn’t even take her money, and he had spent hours with her when he could have been doing Spike-like things. 

She still hadn’t shown him the fruits of their labor. After her naughty fantasy, she had spent the weekend avoiding him. _He probably doesn’t care, anyway._ Buffy glanced at her paper again. _We worked really hard on it, and he had offered to help._ She could do a quick patrol and, if she happened to accidentally-on-purpose bump into him, she wouldn’t be breaking any rules. 

_Rulebreaker_ , Buffy thought as she walked down the familiar path to Spike’s crypt. If he was home, she’d show him her paper and leave. If he wasn’t there, she’d go, and no one would be any the wiser. She couldn’t imagine what her friends would say if they found out she was spending time with Spike. No, that wasn’t true. She could practically hear their ridicule. This was Spike. Even if she enjoyed spending time with him—which she didn’t—her friends would never accept him. She couldn’t like Spike. She just couldn’t. That would be... ridiculous. 

Muttering under her breath, Buffy continued toward Spike’s, practicing what she would say when she got there. As she drew closer, the door to the mausoleum swung open, startling her. She stopped in her tracks. A second later, Spike stepped out. 

“Slayer?” he asked with a look of surprise. 

Fighting déjà vu, Buffy took a step forward. “Spike. I—” She shook her head. “I was hoping you’d be around,” she said, forgetting her words. 

Spike took a step closer, his lips curving into a slight smile. “Yeah?” 

“I got my grade back on my history paper. I wanted to tell you I got an A-minus.” 

“A-minus?” Spike frowned. “We worked on that bloody thing all night. A-minus,” Spike scoffed. “Did he tell you why?" 

Buffy tried not to smile at Spike’s obvious dissatisfaction with the minus part of her grade. “He said it was very good,” she said, handing him the paper. 

Spike flipped through the pages and scanned Professor Cringle’s remarks. “Twit,” he muttered, passing the report back to her. 

“An A-minus is a good grade, Spike. All things considered, I’m okay with it.” 

“Well, I guess that’s all that matters, yeah,” he said with a nod. “Congratulations, Slayer.” 

“Thanks to you. I would have blown it off,” Buffy confessed. “Anyway, I wanted to come by and, uh, say thank you... in case you were curious about how it all worked out.” 

Spike nodded again. “Thanks for thinkin’ of me. And yeah, I guess I was curious about it. But only about this much,” he teased, holding his thumb and index finger apart. 

There he went, making her smile again. _Why is he suddenly so charming?_ Buffy glanced up at the night sky. Not a full moon in sight. “So, um, are you on your way out?” she asked, stalling. 

“Yeah, I got a lead on a vamp nest down by Sunnydale Station. There was an attack earlier. Thought I’d check it out and see what’s what. Probably nothing but a few yokels gettin’ sloppy, s’all.”

An attack at the train station? She’d heard something about that, but she’d been so preoccupied with school, she hadn’t given it much thought. “Oh,” she managed. “And you were going to ‘check it out’ on your own?” 

Shrugging, he replied, “Yeah. Not like there’s been much action around here lately. You know what they say about idle time and all that.” 

_So, he’s keeping himself occupied to do... good_. She studied him for a moment, unable to hide her surprise. He was actively trying to stay out of trouble. What in the bizarro world was going on here? If she didn’t know better, she might think this was some kind of trick or an attempt to get her to put her guard down. But what would be his motive? He knew Dawn’s secret; if he wanted to hurt her, he could really hurt her. And he hasn’t, a soft voice whispered in the back of her mind.

“Well, I was going to do a quick patrol around here, but…” She hesitated. “Since you know where there’s going to be some action.” 

He smirked. “Are you asking to tag along, Slayer?” 

“No, I’m not tagging. You mentioned an attack and, as the Slayer, I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t at least check it out.” 

“Whatever you say, pet. But, for the record, I tipped you off. Remember that the next time you’re brassed off at me.” 

“Noted,” Buffy said, following Spike to his car. “Anyway, I think I was going a little cross-eyed studying for these stupid tests tomorrow.” 

“Yeah? How many you’ve got?” 

“Two. I think I might have checked out right about the time Quasimodo rang the bell tower to warn the colonial militia the British were coming.” 

Spike turned to look at her. “What?” he chortled. 

“You mean you missed that part of history?” Buffy said, flashing him a smile. “Things were starting to bleed together. So, a little slayage is a much-needed break.” 

“Glad I could oblige.” Spike returned her smile. 

They drove in silence. Enjoying the quiet, Buffy wasn’t in a hurry to engage in empty chatter and appreciated that Spike seemed to be on the same page. She had to admit that being in Spike’s company wasn’t bad when he wasn’t trying to kill her.

She stole a furtive glance and tried not to admire the angles of his face. He was attractive. Although she had spent most of their relationship hating him, Buffy had noticed that Spike was kind of a hottie—if she was into that sort of thing. Spike had a certain appeal when his mouth didn’t get in the way. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted by his good looks and sudden change of attitude. It was one thing to have a (one-off) fantasy about him and another to seriously entertain any thought of Spike being a potential—

“So, tell me about the attack,” she said, interrupting the silence. 

“Six dead with bite marks to the neck. At first, I thought it might have been Glory, so I did some digging?” 

Buffy turned to look at him. “Wait, you went looking for Glory on your own?” 

“Well, yeah. Can’t just sit around twiddlin’ our thumbs until Glory comes lookin’ for you lot again.” 

“I’m not twiddling!” Buffy pouted. She wasn’t! She was still keeping an eye out for Glory. And Giles was doing his research thing. No one was twiddling here. 

Spike tilted his head and gave her a look. “I’m not saying you were twiddlin’, Slayer. I’m saying that I—” He stopped short. “Remember, I just want to get through this. Rather do it in one piece is all.”

“So... you… went looking for the thing that could turn you into pieces?” Buffy eyed him skeptically. 

“Good point. I’ll remember that next time. Anyway,” Spike rushed, “I stopped by Willy’s, and he gave me the skinny on the vamp nest. So, I thought I’d make myself useful in the meantime.” 

Oh, no, she wouldn’t let him off that easy. Spike had volunteered to put himself in harm’s way by seeking Glory out. Alone. “Spike—” 

“They’re somewhere around here.” Spike stopped the car and put it into park. “One of these buildings,” he said, reaching over her to open the glove compartment. 

His arm brushed her midsection, and her stomach did a small flip. Spike pulled out a silver flask, and relief flooded through her. For a moment there, she had thought he was trying to make a move. Patrolling together, fine. Staking out a vamp nest, also fine. But Spike making a move on her… that was territory she was not ready to cross. Buffy shifted in her seat and watched as he took a swig and then offered her the flask. 

“Ew.” Her face scrunched in disgust. 

“It’s not blood; it’s Bourbon.”

“Ewww,” she repeated slowly. Backwash aside, alcohol hadn’t been kind to her. Besides, drinking and slaying didn’t seem like a good mix. 

“Suit yourself.” He reached across her again and put the flask back. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he hummed. “I wanna be sedated.” He sang a few bars and stopped. “Do you like the Ramones?” 

Buffy stared at him for a moment. She hadn’t forgotten what they were talking about. “So, if you don’t want Glory to kill you, why were you looking—”

“Shh!”

Two vampires crossed the street and entered an abandoned warehouse.

“I think that’s it,” she whispered to Spike. 

“Wait,” he said, placing a hand on her thigh.

A shiver ran up her spine, and she sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Give it a few seconds.” Spike nodded his head three times, then opened his door. 

_Cut it out!_ Buffy scolded herself as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. This was ridiculous. The fresh air cleared her senses, driving away the scent of Spike’s cologne. 

“Ready?” he asked as she stepped beside him. 

“Let’s do this.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Slayer.” 

Buffy eyed the snarling vampire, unimpressed. Her eyes swept the room, quickly taking in the domestic surroundings. There were five vamps in various states of... relaxation? One was making popcorn over a lantern, while another picked through a pile of CDs. 

“Who invited her to the party?” Popcorn-Vampire said, rising to his feet. He looked at Spike and spat, “I know you; you’re the traitor.”

Buffy glanced at Spike. “Your reputation precedes you.” 

Spike cracked his neck, bending it from left to right. “Seems like.” 

“Looks like we get to kill two birds with one stone,” the vampire said. “And by birds, I mean the Slayer and her vampire boyfriend.” 

“We’re not—” 

“She’s not my—” 

Buffy braced as one vampire rushed her, knocking her onto the sofa. Recovering from the hit, she kicked out, connecting with the vampire’s chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike take on two vampires, clipping one in the chin while the other shoved him into a lamp. Glass shattered as Spike hit the floor.

Buffy grabbed the vampire by his shirt and tossed him into the wall. “The train. You’re the ones that attacked those people,” she ground out, punching the vampire in face. 

The vampire snarled, smashing his forehead into Buffy’s. “That wasn’t us.” He backhanded her across the face. “You’ve got the wrong vamps.”

Buffy winced, working the pain out of her jaw. “Sure, that’s what they all say.” 

“Get her, Gordon! She’s wrecking our lair,” a vampire called out before catching Spike's right hook. 

The vampires circled her, eyes gleaming with hunger as they closed in.

Surrounded, Buffy’s eyes swept the room and spotted Spike grappling with two of the vampires. 

“Spike!” she called out as one of them cracked a lamp over his head. 

“Sodding—” Spike growled and morphed into his demon facade. 

“All we wanted to do, after a night of good old-fashioned maiming, was enjoy movie night,” Gordon said and kicked Buffy in the face. While she was momentarily disoriented, two vampires grabbed her arms, restraining her. “But you and your boyfriend had to ruin it.” 

Buffy jerked her arms. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Gordon jabbed her in the face, catching Buffy beneath her jaw. 

Buffy blinked, righting herself. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth;. she hated the taste of blood. Anger reverberated through her body, and she yanked her arms out of the vampires’ grasp. Fists flying, she swung her arms as the vampires attacked at once. She grimaced as their blows connected with her side, her face, her head. Gasping in pain, she knew she needed to get the upper hand. She needed— 

Spike wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the air. She kicked out, knocking the vampires to the ground. 

“Thanks,” Buffy huffed as they each grabbed a vampire. 

They fought in tandem, their bodies moving fluidly together, taking the vamps out one at a time. Buffy twisted, driving her stake into Gordon’s chest at the same moment Spike staked his. Dust exploded around them, showering Buffy in vampire remains. Popcorn-Vampire froze. He looked between Buffy and Spike, then took off. 

Buffy stifled a laugh as he tripped over a stool and disappeared through the door. 

“Well, that was sad.” Spike shook his head. “I’m embarrassed for our kind.”

Buffy took a moment to study him as his face smoothed back into its human form. His eyes gleamed with excitement, his hair was mussed, and a bruise was forming on his left cheek. He’d fought hard.

She recalled the pressure of his fingers around her waist as he’d lifted her. The way he moved with her... It was as if he anticipated what she needed before she did. No one had ever read her that well, not Riley or even Angel. 

“Should we go after him?” Spike nodded toward the door. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

Tearing her eyes away from him, Buffy looked around at the mess and shook her head. “No, he’s one vampire, and we took out his nest. It’ll be a while before he can set up shop again around here. Besides, I don’t think he had anything to do with last night’s murders.”

“How do you figure?” Spike asked, furrowing his brow. 

“The big one said it wasn’t them, and I kind of believe him.” She sighed. “I’ll check out the station tomorrow morning and see if I can find anything that’ll lead to the actual killer.” 

Buffy tucked her stake in her jacket and headed to the door. She had just taken out a room full of vampires, but, instead of feeling satisfied, she was more frustrated than ever. Spike accelerated, arriving in time to open the door for her.

She stopped and turned to him with a frown on her face. “What are you doing?” 

“I- I was…” Spike looked at the door, then back at Buffy. “I wasn’t thinking.” He shook his head. 

“You were getting the door for me,” Buffy drawled. “Since when do you open doors for me?” 

“Psht. I open doors. I open ’em all the time.” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Chatting with me at the Bronze, buying things for my mom, the late-night study session, the flask? What are you up to, Spike? I mean, really?” 

There had to be a reason for the sudden change in his behavior, and she wanted to know what it was so she could nip this little—whatever it was between them—in the bud. There was a certain balance to their relationship, and it usually consisted of snark and hitting. That was safe. Familiar.

Spike glanced away. “Just thought I’d do my part s’all,” he mumbled. 

Silence hung in the air between them. Buffy’s lips parted, then her mouth closed with a soft click of her teeth. Had Spike responded with his typical sarcasm, she would have had no problem giving it right back. But the naked vulnerability in his eyes left her at a loss for words.

She walked through the door and skidded to a sudden stop. “Is this a date?” she asked, turning around to face him. 

Spike grimaced. “A date? Are you completely off your bird?” His eyes darted to the right. “I mean, do you want it to be?” 

Amused, Buffy crossed her arms. “Definitely not.” She’d never consider dating Spike. He was... Spike. 

He bit his lower lip. “Admit it, Slayer. This was fun. We have fun together.” 

Oh, he was so smug, but he wasn’t lying. She’d had fun with Spike. Even studying with him had been on this side of enjoyable, but what did it mean? So what if she had fun with him? That didn’t make them friends, did it?

Buffy took a step, and Spike moved in front of her, blocking her path. 

“Yes, tonight was fun,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “I have… had fun with you,” she admitted quietly. 

“Yeah?” He moved closer. 

“Yes, but you can’t tell anyone I said that...” she warned, raising a finger to his face and then stepping around him. 

Spike grinned and moved beside her. “It’s not unusual, you know. Two people... in the workplace... feelings develop.” 

Buffy gave him a look. “A few good nights doesn’t mean there are feelings. No feelings developing. None.” 

Spike’s lips twisted into a smirk. “The lady doth protest too much,” he teased as they crossed the street. 

“Please.” Buffy rolled her eyes again. 

“You gotta admit. There’s something… the way we fight together. Move together,” his voice dropped seductively. “And I make you laugh.” 

“I often laugh when people do funny things.” 

“Yeah,” he said skeptically. 

Buffy stopped and glared at him with a hint of a smile on her lips. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Spike shrugged and opened the car door.

Buffy closed it again. “The only things between us are loathing and disgust.”

“If you say so,” Spike said, his tone glib.

“It’s true!” 

Smirking, Spike shook his head. “You know what, you’re right.” He grimaced. “The Slayer. Blech, yuck.” 

Buffy cut her eyes at him and climbed into his car. “Good, I’m glad we agree.” Buffy paused, considering his words. "Hey!"

Spike chuckled and walked around to the driver’s side, shaking his head. Buffy watched him, annoyed by his casual flirting. Maybe they weren’t enemies in the strictest sense of the word, but they weren’t friends. And they could never be lovers.

“You’re a vampire,” Buffy said when he climbed inside the car. 

“Angel is a vampire.” 

Buffy glanced at Spike from the corner of her eye. “That’s different.”

“Because he has a soul?” He sounded hurt. 

She bit her lip and turned away from him. A few months ago, she would have replied with a resounding yes, but now she didn’t know. Yes, Angel had a soul. The soul made him the man she had fallen in love with but, without his soul, he was cruel. Without his soul, Spike was just annoying. Tonight proved that, unlike Angel, Spike didn’t need a soul to do a good deed. Buffy’s breath caught in her chest as realization dawned. 

With Angel, it became necessary to compartmentalize, forgiving Angelus’s cruelty because the truth was much worse. The soul was the only thing restraining him. Angelus was the prisoner, and Angel was his holding cell.

“I can be good too,” Spike added. “I’m trying to change, Buffy. I want to.” 

Both confused by her thoughts and touched by the sincerity in his voice, Buffy lowered her gaze to the palms of her hands. She wanted to believe him. But she didn’t know how much of what he was saying was the chip. Was it possible for a vampire to change without a soul? 

When she didn’t respond, Spike said, “Look, it’s getting late.” He cranked the ignition, and the car roared to life. 

“I do think you want to change, Spike,” she said finally. “But I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

Spike nodded. “I know.” He spoke slowly. “But something is happening to me.”

Buffy sighed and rested her head back against her seat, staring at him wordlessly. She didn’t know what to say. If these last few months were any indication, he was changing for the better. He still had his moments. He had stolen from Giles and God knows who else, but now that she was paying attention, she could see that he was trying. 

“You’re hungry,” Spike blurted.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “How’d you…”

“I can hear your stomach.” 

“Oh.” Yeah, she needed a little more than a nonfat yogurt after that fight. “I guess I could eat.” 

Spike turned his head back to the road and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “The Bronze is on the way home. They’ve got 50 cent wings tonight.” 

“Spike, are you asking me to dinner?” 

“No, I was thinkin’ of ordering some wings, and since it’s on the way…” he said with a hint of a smirk. 

“Oh, okay. As long as it’s not—” 

“A date. I know, I know.” He waved her off. “Look, Slayer, do you want wings or not?” 

Buffy glanced out the window, then back at him. “Sure. We can get wings.”

Please, Spike, don’t make me regret this. 

++++

_I want you to remember a love so full it could send us all ways_

_I want you to surrender_

_All my feelings rose today_

Buffy bobbed her head to the music and furtively searched the club for her friends. Wing Night at the Bronze seemed to have drawn half the town. Buffy shifted in her chair and tried to ignore the nerves gnawing at the pit of her stomach. If any of her friends came walking through the door, she had an excuse ready: they were talking shop. Spike thought he had a lead on Glory. The world was ending. 

All true statements. 

“If you’re afraid your friends will see us, I can leave, Slayer,” Spike said from across the table. 

Buffy jumped at the sound of his voice. He couldn’t read her mind, could he? 

“No, it’s not that.” 

“Really?” He raised his scarred brow. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been staring at that door since we got here.” 

Buffy’s cheeks colored. He had a way of seeing right through her. “I was just scoping the place,” she lied. 

He took a swig of his beer, watching her over the bottle. “Tell you what, if any of your little Scoobies walk in, I’ll pretend to harass you.” 

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “Spike... you don’t have to do... You don’t need to do that. We’re just grabbing food.”

“Sounds good to me. And, this time, I’ll pay,” he said with a half-smile. 

“And we’ll skip story hour tonight,” she said, recalling the last time she and Spike had sat down for wings at the Bronze. 

“No worries, Slayer. That was a one time deal. Not really in the business of giving away trade secrets.”

Buffy snorted. “Right.” 

“Hot wings with blue cheese and ranch dressing,” their waitress interrupted, placing a platter of food on the table. 

Buffy inhaled the spicy aroma, and her stomach growled again. Maybe stopping to get food wasn’t a terrible idea. It’s just wings, not a lifelong commitment. 

“Go on, try one,” Spike encouraged her around a bite. “Their wings almost make up for taking the onion blossom off the menu. Almost.” 

++++

Sprite tickled Buffy’s nose as she tried not to laugh at another one of Spike’s dirty jokes. “Stop,” she sniffed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

It was late, and the crowd at the Bronze was thinning out. Relaxed—and full of wings and laughter—Buffy leaned back in her chair and sighed. She and Spike had gone through almost two platters of chicken. I’m going to have to train extra hard tomorrow. She took another sip of her Sprite and nodded along to the music as Spike launched into another joke. 

“All right, this is a good one. I heard it on _Ally McBeal_ ,” he prefaced with a grin. 

“You watch _Ally McBeal?_ ” Buffy’s lips twitched into a crooked smile. 

“Yeah, it’s a funny show. Your mum told me about it.” 

Of course she did. Buffy shook her head. 

“Anyway, it goes like this: Two fleas meet at a bar in Florida, and one of them is freezing cold. The other asks why, and the first flea says, ‘To get here, I had to ride all the way from New Jersey on the mustache of some biker, and I'm frozen solid!’ 

Spike continued, "’Next time,’ he says...” 

Buffy nodded, following along. Languid, she propped her chin in her palm and enjoyed the timbre of his voice, enjoyed his pleasure in telling his joke. She liked it. And, in that moment, she liked him. 

“‘... and the next thing I knew, I was riding on some biker’s mustache again!’”

Buffy paused and thought about the punchline before her eyes widened. “Oh. Oooooh,” she said, covering her mouth. “Now that’s dirty. What has my mom been watching?” She teased, “Parents these days.” 

“I’ve got more.” 

“I’m sure you do.” Buffy glanced at her watch. “But we’ll have to save them for another time. It’s getting late, and I’ve blown off studying long enough.” 

“Yeah.” He sounded disappointed. “Another time,” he said, reminding Buffy that there probably would not be another opportunity like this for them. 

Disappointment washed away some of the euphoria she had felt while she and Spike traded raunchy jokes. She’d had a good time with him; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this with a guy. Spike had a way of taking the pressure off. She didn’t have to hold back with him or try to keep up. With Spike, she could be herself. She could laugh at crass jokes and not worry about being judged. She could eat two platters of wings and know he wouldn’t think she was gross for overeating. She had fun hanging out with Spike because she didn’t have to put on airs. 

“You know,” she said, “the next time you get a lead on Glory, we should probably cut back on the saturated fats.”

Spike tilted his head. “Yeah?” 

“There’s a salad bar on Main that stays open late.” 

“That’s rabbit food,” Spike scoffed. “Slaying isn’t fun if you can’t indulge yourself after, right?” 

Buffy stared at him for a moment, suddenly noticing the blueness of his eyes. Were they always that blue? “Yeah…”

Spike grabbed the bill off the table and frowned. “Two platters of wings, a couple of beers, and a Sprite, and they still jack up the prices.”

“We can split the check,” Buffy offered. 

“No,” Spike dismissed her offer. “My treat, remember.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” Spike assured her. “A deal’s a deal, Slayer.” 

“Okay, well, I’m going to go to the little girls’ room. Be right back.”

She moved through the crowd, watching for any signs of her friends. Not that she owed them an explanation... or maybe she did? Buffy stepped into the empty bathroom. Conflicted, she stared at herself in the mirror and reflected on the evening. Tonight was the first time she had felt relaxed in weeks. Spike had provided her with a much-needed diversion. Smiling, Buffy took one last glance at her reflection and headed back to their table. 

“Ready?” Spike asked, peeking over his shoulder. 

Buffy shrugged on her jacket. “Is everything okay?”

Spike nodded, placing a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door. “Yeah. Just ready to get out of here, s’all.” 

Buffy followed him out of the bar. “Spike.” She stopped at the entrance to the alley. “Did you— You paid the bill, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he sputtered. 

Buffy raised her brows

Sighing, he dropped his head, giving himself away.

“Oh my god, did we just dine and dash.” 

“People do it all the time,” Spike protested. “It’s a victimless crime.” 

A victimless crime? Her ‘Anne’ paycheck begged to differ. Buffy looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. Mimicking his accent, she demanded, “What about I’m a changed man? I wanna do good, Buffy.” 

“I don’t sound like that.” 

“That’s beside the point. I come in here all the time, Spike. I don’t want my face on the wall of shame.” 

“Fine! I’ll pay the bloody check.”

He disappeared again and returned a few minutes later, holding a small slip of paper. “Proof,” he said, holding it out for her to see. 

Buffy snatched the receipt from his hand, scanning it until she reached the bottom. He’d tipped, she thought, satisfied. And it was an excellent one.

“Happy now?” 

Buffy flashed him an amused look. “Yes, I’m glad we didn’t do crime.”

Spike stopped in front of his car and gazed up at the sky. “See, I told you I’m changing.” 

Buffy watched him closely, noticing the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He seemed so... human. Without realizing, Buffy took a step closer. 

“Want a lift?” He looked down at her. 

Buffy shook her head, stepping back. “No, I think I’ll walk some of these calories off. Besides, if you drop me off in front of my house, it’ll seem too much like a date,” she reminded him with a cheeky smile. 

“Right. We can’t have that. A date. Blech, yuck. Disgusting.”

Buffy laughed. “Good night, Spike.”

“Night, Slayer!”

Buffy sighed. Part of her wanted to take that ride but… She kept walking, resisting the urge to turn around.


	9. Chapter 9

Spike watched as she disappeared around the corner, willing her to turn around so he could catch one more glimpse of her face. If he had his druthers, he would spend the entire night sitting across from her just to see her smile. And, man, when she smiled… Spike shook his head at the memory. Once Buffy had loosened up and allowed herself to relax, he had felt free to let his guard down too. From there, the conversation had flowed naturally. Before Spike knew it, he had dipped into his arsenal of dirty jokes. He enjoyed making her laugh; it beat making her angry. 

Tonight was different. Tonight had been genuine progress. And he had almost made a total cock-up of it at the end.

He slid into his car and leaned back against the headrest. Even after seeing the hike in prices, he’d had every intention of paying the bill. But those intentions had dissipated after his second pint. One skipped check wouldn’t hurt their bottom line. _But. It’s. Wrong.,_ Spike reminded himself. _Stealing from people was wrong, and it upset Buffy._

Fishing the receipt from his pocket, he carefully unfolded it. He could tell the tip had won him points. He knew the catalog of her expressions. When she was pleased, her eyes crinkled at the corners, and her smile lit up. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that look again. 

He started the car. It smelled like her. Intoxicating. Inhaling, he recalled their conversation before their date— _no, not a -date_ —at the Bronze. He had wanted to tell her how he really felt. She was all he could think about. She was in his gut, his throat... He was drowning in her. 

What he felt was wrong—he wasn’t a complete idiot—but this was more than a crush. He loved her. But she wasn’t ready to hear that... not yet. And he wasn’t going to embarrass himself like some lovesick whelp declaring his love only to be rejected. Sighing, he pulled away from the bar and headed back to his crypt. 

++++

Something was off; he felt it the moment he neared his home. He slowed his stride and crept closer to his crypt, careful not to give himself away to the intruders. Peeking inside, he nearly choked at the sight of Harmony and Dru sitting in his makeshift living room together.

Spike stepped inside in disbelief. “Drusilla?” The last person he'd expected to see was his former paramour, casually chatting it up with his current... he wasn’t sure what to call Harmony. 

Blinking, he turned his gaze on Drusilla and swallowed hard. She sat primly with a porcelain doll in her lap, her alabaster skin radiant in the dim light. She was still a vision of death and mystery, his dark salvation. Spike fought the memory of the two of them, cutting a bloody swath across Europe together. 

“A happy memory, pretty Spike,” Drusilla said sweetly, setting her dolly aside. 

With a rose in hand, she glided across the small room, stopping in front of him. “Look ‘o’s come to make everyfing right,” she said, the flower caressing her pale cheek. 

“Dorkus here thinks she can swoop in and make you all grrr again,” Harmony announced with an eye roll. “But I told her alllll about your little problem.” 

“You’ve got a chip,” Drusilla pouted.

“And don’t forget his obsession with the Slayer. You should see the gross little shrine he has downstairs. Talk about fatal attraction.” 

Drusilla emitted a guttural noise and glared daggers at Spike. Dreamlike, she circled around him, walking her fingers across his stomach and back seductively. “You smell of death…” she intoned. Closing her eyes, she pressed her nose against his shoulder, inhaling his scent. “Like wildflowers and honey.” 

“Dru…” Spike mewled. 

“My poor, poor Spike. You used to dance with me in the night.” She swayed from side to side, moving to a silent tune only she could hear. “But now ‘e only dances in summer.” 

“I told you; he’s got it bad,” Harmony said, her hands on her hips. Turning to Spike, she added, “I’m just glad I got out before you made me dress up like this cheap queen of the damned knock-off. Oh, and in case you didn’t get the memo, Spikey, we are sooo over.” Harmony’s chin jutted forward and she broke into a satisfied smile. 

Massaging the bridge of his nose, Spike fought the headache simmering behind his eyes. Was karma catching up to him? How had he ended up in a room with Drusilla and Harmony? This was the seventh circle of Hell. Or a horrible joke. 

One moment he’d been enjoying his night with the Slayer, now he was caught between two brassed off birds, one of which was very much insane. He had no desire to deal with either. 

“Um, Harm,” a voice called from the lower level of the crypt. “I think I’ve got it all, honey.”

“Who the hell is that?” Spike asked, staring in disbelief as a head appeared, jutting up from the hole in his floor. 

“That’s my sweet boo boo, Rusty,” Harmony announced with pride. 

In a rare moment of apparent clarity, Dru looked past Harmony and made eye contact with Spike. “He’s her sweet boo boo,” she mouthed.

Puzzled, Spike asked, “The personal trainer?” He made a face at the vampire in his floor. 

“He’s my child.” Harmony beamed. “What did you think? She’s the only vampire who can sire someone?” Harmony hitched her chin at Drusilla. 

Spike watched incredulously as the vampire emerged from the hole, carrying a box of Harmony’s junk. 

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Rusty said, thrusting his free hand at Spike. 

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me,” Spike declared, looking between the couple. 

Harmony sauntered over to Rusty and cuddled against his massive body, placing a hand affectionately on his broad chest. “I’m sick of your obsession with the Slayer and your precious Droodzilla, so I took back my power. I thought I could change you, Spike. I thought maybe if I gave and I gave and gave, maybe you’d come around. Maybe be a little nicer. Stop treating me like your dog. But now I see I am a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman who deserves a man who worships the ground I walk on.” 

“Dru-silla,” Spike corrected, his mouth tight. 

“And if you were smart,” Harmony said, ignoring him and turning toward Dru, “you’d dump this loser, too. You have no idea how hard it’s been to break down the walls he put up after you left. I mean, serious trust issues.”

_Is she daft?_

“Harm…” Spike began. 

“Shyeah, she’s told me all about you two,” Rusty interjected, shaking his head. “Have you ever thought about counseling? I know an awesome therapist.” 

“All this buzzing in my ear. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.” Dru snaked her head from side to side. 

Harmony cleared her throat. “Anyway, we have better things to do.” She looped her arm through Rusty’s. “We’re moving into our new place tonight. Which, by the way, is much nicer than this dump.” And she flounced toward the door. 

“We’re having a housewarming party tomorrow night,” Rusty said as Harmony dragged him away. “If you’re still in town, you two should swing by. There’ll be Jello shots. With blood.” 

“Rusty!” Harm squeaked. “I’m dumping him, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. I just thought it’ll be cool to have more vampire couples at the party,” Rusty explained as they headed out. 

“Well, that was fun.” Spike closed the door behind them. Turning around, he eyed Dru caustically. 

What the hell was she doing back in Sunnydale? Last time he had seen her, she had made it perfectly clear it was over between them. That had been over a year ago; he had moved on. You choose now to make your grand return, huh, Dru? Fickle bitch.

“What are you doing here, Drusilla?” 

“Rode in on the trolley with many tasty treats,” she swooned, licking the tip of her finger. 

Spike closed his eyes. So Buffy was right. It wasn’t the idiots at the warehouse; it had been Dru. “You’re the vampire from the train...” 

A slight smile touched her lips. “I want us to be a family again, my William,” she said, launching into a riddled tale of resurrections and subterfuge with Darla and Angel. 

Spike listened, growing more and more tired with each passing minute. Even if he wanted to join her in Los Angeles, he couldn’t, not with the chip in his head. But he didn’t want to go to Los Angeles; he didn’t want to be in her sodding family. He had left that life behind. Spike envisioned Buffy sitting across from him at the Bronze, laughing at his jokes. No, Dru would have to play her little games without him. 

“So, uh, let me get this straight,” he said when she finished. “Darla got mojo’d back from the beyond... You vamped her... and now she and you are workin’ on turnin’ Angel into his own bad self again.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Sounds fun,” he deadpanned. 

“It is. Like lollipops at the circus. Although…” She touched the healing burns on her cheek and chest. “Didn’t care for Angelus setting us on fire.” 

He shook his head. “And this has got you, what, all nostalgic now, has it?” He needed a cigarette. After that bizarre breakup with Harmony, Spike needed to brace himself for Dru’s crap. 

She drifted across the room and placed her lips against his ears. “Come back with me,” she whispered. 

“To Los Angeles?” 

Dru nodded.

“I’ve done the whole L.A. scene, Dru. Didn’t agree with me.” Spike stepped back, putting distance between them. “Besides, I’ve got a sweet little setup here in Sunny-D.” He gestured toward his television and armchair. “Decent digs…” 

“Naughty! Shhh!” Dru slapped the back of her hand. “You needn’t make up stories. I already know why you’re not coming. Poor boy.” She put her hands on each side of her head. “Tin soldiers put funny little knick-knacks in your brain. Can’t hunt! Can’t hurt! Can’t kill!” she said, jerking her head to the side. 

Spike’s lips curled in disgust as she reminded him of his impotence. “Right. Poor Spike’s become a cautionary tale for vampires, right? ‘You better be good, kiddies, or else they might wire you up someday!’” he grumbled, kicking a pebble across the room. 

“I don’t believe in science. All those bits and molecules no one’s ever seen. I trust eyes and heart alone.” Drusilla floated over to him. “And do you know what mine is singing out right now?” She placed her hand over her heart. “You’re a killer. Born to slash... and bash. No little tinker-toy could ever stop you from flowing.”

All right, he’d had enough. Spike rose to his feet. “Nice speech, Dru,” he said, walking to the door. “But it’s time for you to go. And I suggest you do it fast before you find yourself on the other end of the Slayer’s stake.” 

Dru’s body vibrated as she emitted a whimpering sound. “The fool was right. Your Slayer has plucked out your eyes,” she said, snatching at the air in front of his face. “And now she’s all you see...” 

Spike jerked open the door and stared out into the night. He could go with Dru and allow the darkness to swallow him again, or he could stay. Temptation wrapped around him like a warm embrace as he reminisced about the past—the whirlwind. How poetic, he thought, shaking his head. No, he didn’t want the Whirlwind. And he didn’t want Dru... not anymore. 

“Dru,” he began, turning to face her. Before he could finish, he felt a sharp pain across the back of his head, and the world went dark. 

++++

He came to some time later and looked around. Dru had moved him to the lower level of his crypt and shackled him to the wall. “Bloody hell! Drusilla!” Spike bellowed, jerking his chains. 

Ghost-like, Drusilla moved in front of him. “Awake ’e is,” she whispered. 

“Bloody right, I am. Now, this has gone far enough, Dru.” 

“Electricity lies, Spike. Love lies. It tells you you’re not a bad dog, but you are.” 

“I’ve changed. I’m not the man I was before.”

“Shhhh.” Dru lifted a finger to her lips. “My boy’s hungry, but I know what ’e really wants to eat,” she taunted him. “Maybe if I play with ’im a bit.” Dru ran a nail down his torso, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. She licked her finger, moaning at the taste of his blood. 

"Like cinnamon meadows," she breathed.

Spike jerked his chains again; dirt and sand fell from above. “All right, I’m through playing with you, Dru.” 

“Oooh. I like it when you’re all dour and straight to business-like,” she said, clapping her hands in glee. 

Grabbing a knife from a nearby table, she pierced his side.

Spike growled in pain. He remembered this game well. In the past, a little pain therapy had gone a long way towards winning Dru back after her dalliances. Knowing Dru, this could go on all night. He pulled on the chains again and kicked out, his feet connecting with her midsection. 

“Bloody well through playing,” he seethed, yanking the chains from the wall. Clumps of dirt fell from the ceiling and landed on his head. He pulled one arm free, then the other. 

Dru picked herself up and glowered at him from across the room. “Not nice to change the game in mid-play, Spike. You’ve taken my chair, and the music hasn’t stopped.”

“Sorry, pet. My house, my rules.” Spike swung the chains as he neared her. “I’m not going back with you. Done with that life. I’m a changed man, I am. And you’d best be on your way before you see how much I’ve changed.” 

Dru shook her head, laughing hysterically. 

“I can do without the laugh track, Dru.” 

“But it’s so funny. I knew... before you did. I knew you loved the Slayer. The pixies in my head whispered it to me.” 

Spike grabbed her arms and gave her a shake, then shoved her against the opposite wall. “She doesn’t... She’ll never believe it. She doesn’t think I can love.” 

“Oh, but we love quite well. Especially my Spike. All roses and gardenias. And little girls in pretty white dresses.” 

“I should kill you for her,” Spike said close to her ear as he wrapped the chains around her waist. “Proof that I’m changing.”

“Aww,” Drusilla mocked. He squeezed her tighter. “Ow!” 

“You killed those people on the train,” he said. “Slaughtered them for no reason.” 

She countered incredulously, “But I was ’ungry.” 

Spike paused, the innocence in her voice softening him. Dru was a vicious beast, but he still felt the need to care for her. She didn’t know any better. Angel had left her as nothing more than an addled monster. She didn’t understand that what she did to those people was wrong. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do with a chip in her head... or worse, a soul. Sighing, Spike turned her loose and slumped down on his bed. 

“This is all your fault, you know,” he mumbled. “If you hadn’t left me for that chaos demon, I never would have come back here. Never would have had this sodding chip in my skull... And never would have fallen in love with her.” 

Dru sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “My poor, Spike," she said after awhile. "So lost. Even I can’t ’elp you now." 

Spike looked up in time to see Drusilla take her leave. “I wouldn’t come back here if I were you,” he warned. “The Slayer will be lookin’ for you.” 

“And it’s you she’s found,” Dru grieved sadly, fading into the shadows. 

_Bugger!_

All he had wanted was to come home and spend the night thinking about his date with Buffy. Instead, he’d been dumped twice. By women he wasn’t even in relationships with. What had started as a good night had ended in shambles, thanks to Harmony and Drusilla. At least one of them is leaving town.

He walked to the shrine in the corner and studied the sketch he had drawn. She was so bloody beautiful. He dug in his pocket and fished out his receipt from the Bronze. He laid it gently on the shrine and closed his eyes. 

Harmony had mocked him for the shrine, and he’d seen the look on Dru’s face when she saw it. He imagined Buffy’s reaction if she ever discovered it. There would be no smiles of approval, only looks of disgust. Maybe Harmony was right. Spike shook his head at the thought of his bubble-brained ex making sense. He looked around the room and spotted an empty box in the corner. The lunkhead must have left it when he cleared out Harmony’s stuff. Slowly, Spike packed up the mementos and things he had stolen from Buffy over the past few months. When he finished, he pulled his lighter from his pocket and held the flame to the sketch before tossing it into the box. He watched it flicker and burn. 

“Bloody—” Spike swore. Not ready to part with the contents of the box, he quickly stomped out the flames. Crouching down, he dug around inside, relieved to see that most of it had survived the short-lived fire. He’d get rid of it eventually, but, until then, Spike pushed the box in a corner. 

He was changing, but he wasn’t a bloody saint.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy jolted awake with a strangled gasp. _Another dream_. She groaned and flopped down on her pillows. She'd been in the Bronze with Spike again, and things had gotten hot and heavy on one of the pool tables. Her skin flushed with the memory of Spike’s weight on top of her as he kissed her lips, the hollow of her throat and— She had to stop thinking of him about him that way! It wasn’t healthy. But, oh, did it feel so good. She sighed, thinking of his phantom kisses. Rolling over, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and tried willing the image of him away. 

“I blame last night,” she muttered into her pillow. 

If she hadn’t agreed to dinner, then she wouldn’t be having naughty, sexy-time dreams about him forced upon her defenseless subconscious. _Forced?_ the irritating voice in the back of her mind cracked. Okay, maybe forced was too strong a word. She couldn’t control what her mind conjured up while she was sleeping, and any dreams she had about Spike occurred through no fault of her own. It wasn’t her fault they’d had such a great time with each other, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about their not-a-date. 

They had talked and laughed, and for a few hours, she hadn’t let herself think about all the problems weighing her down. Spike had been an excellent distraction, but that’s all he was—a distraction. Except, it had felt like something more. It had felt like a date, and as far as dates went, last night’s had been the best she’d had in a long time. Smiling, Buffy recalled one of Spike’s raunchier jokes and chuckled. Sitting in their little corner table, she had forgotten about their history and allowed herself to relax and have fun with him—which was the problem. If that chip ever came out, what guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t go all evil vampire on her again? There was no telling how much that chip affected his behavior or if it was a permanent change. _If only I’d paid attention when Dr. Walsh explained it._

Then maybe she would know for sure. 

“God, what am I doing?” Buffy huffed, rolling out of bed. Stretching, she padded down the hall to the bathroom. 

How often did she have to remind herself that any kind of relationship with Spike—friendly or otherwise—was crazy? “And I’m not crazy,” she spoke to the reflection in her bathroom mirror. After a few seconds of intense staring, she decided that her reflection thought she was full of it.

Buffy glanced around the bathroom and closed the door. In private, she allowed herself a moment to indulge, to recall her evening with Spike. How he looked sitting across from her at the Bronze. The glib way he smiled when he thought he was winning an argument. His intense stare when the conversation turned serious for a moment. How dangerously handsome he looked under the dim lighting. 

They had talked about everything from her history assignment to celebrity gossip to Dawson’s Creek. She’d been a Dawson fan, but by the end of the night, Spike had successfully cajoled her over to “Team Pacey.” They had been knee-deep in a philosophical debate about Dawson Leery when it occurred to her it was after eleven, and she was having a good time.

Buffy ran her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair and gave her reflection a half-smile. Last night she had seen a different side of Spike, a Spike she didn’t mind spending time with. A Spike she liked and she could eventually come to trust. 

Maybe. 

If only there were a way to know that he really was changing and that this wasn’t some kind of vampire midlife crisis. 

++++

“So, tell me again what we’re looking for?” Xander asked, shining a flashlight around the train car. 

Buffy stood on her toes and peered into an overhead luggage rack. “Clues.” 

She tried to ignore the police tape marking the seats where the bodies—victims—were found. Even after years of facing death, she wasn’t numb to it. These were people with lives and families... and now they were gone. 

“Could you give me a clue about what kind of clues?” Xander asked, following her down the aisle. 

“Something. Anything that can help track down the vampire who did this. Sp— I heard a rumor that it was a local nest, but I don’t think it was. And I want to make sure it was vampires and not—”

“Glory,” Xander finished for her. 

Buffy gave him a curt nod and continued walking down the narrow aisle. Not that she didn’t believe Spike. She just wanted to make sure the intel he had gotten from Willy was accurate. If it was vampires, they were probably long gone by now. 

Recalling taking out the vampire nest with Spike, her mind gravitated to the moment right after they had each dusted a vampire. Adrenaline pumping, blood flowing, there had been energy between them that was almost chemical. Last night, Buffy had ignored it, but now, in the light of day, her mind wouldn’t let it go. 

“Well, Sunnydale’s finest didn’t leave us a lot to examine... Who knows how many people have traipsed through here,” Xander said, shining his light under a seat. 

On impulse, Buffy said, “Xander?” He looked up, flashing the light her way. Oh goodness, what am I about to do? “Nevermind.” She shook her head, suddenly losing her nerve. 

“Okay.” He gave her a puzzled look. 

_Oh, come on! This is Xander. One third of your party of three._ He was one of her best friends. If she couldn’t talk to him about what was happening to her, then… Buffy took a deep breath. “What would you tell someone if they started to like a person they shouldn’t?” 

“What do you mean? Why shouldn’t they like them?” 

She twirled the ring on her right index finger and tried to think of a way to explain herself without giving away too much. She could only imagine Xander’s reaction if he knew that the someone in her question was her. 

“You know what, forget it. It’s not important.” 

“Buffy! You can’t just ask a question like that and leave me hanging. It goes against all conversational rules, and common decency, and... and other stuff.”

She ran an agitated hand through her hair. “Seriously, Xander, it’s dumb. Barely worth a mention.” 

“And yet, you mentioned,” he countered. 

Sighing again, she said, “I bumped into Parker the other day, and for like a split second, I forgot what a big fat jerk he is.” 

“Really?” Xander made a face. “Parker? You were thinking about giving that guy a second chance?” 

Buffy forced a strangled laugh. “Yeah, must be all those darn untreated concussions.” 

“Parker?” Xander repeated in disbelief. 

“It was only for like a teeny tiny second! But then I got over it.” 

Xander shrugged and clicked off his flashlight. “Well, I guess that’s better than Spike or something.” 

Buffy nearly choked. “Spike!? Why would the person be Spike?”

“Oh, because he’s been hanging around more than usual, like that night at the Bronze when you two went looking for Glory. What was up with that? Pretending like he suddenly cares?” 

Buffy’s heart pounded in her chest as she desperately searched for a plausible explanation. “That was just Spike... being Spike. You never know what he’s up to.” Nervous laughter escaped. “But,” she mumbled a moment later, “what if it was Spike…?” 

Mute and expressionless, Xander stared at her. His laughter came in spurts at first, building until he exploded. “Buffy, you funny, funny girl, you,” he said, wagging his flashlight between breaths. He laughed for a few more seconds before sobering up again. “Wait. You’re not serious, are you?” 

Embarrassed, Buffy laughed weakly. “No. I thought it would be funny—in an ironic kind of way,” she rushed. 

“Or you know, funny as in: this is Spike we’re talking about here kind of way.” 

“Ha, yeah. You know what they say, there’s nothing like a good morning laugh.” Mood deflated, Buffy looked around the empty train car. If there had been any clues, they were gone now. “I don’t think we’ll get any answers here.”

So much for phoning a friend. 

“Me either. But one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t Glory. Way too much blood.” They stepped onto the platform, and Xander giggled again. 

Annoyed, Buffy looked his way. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about you and Spike,” he snorted, shaking his head. 

++++

Talking to Xander had been disappointing, and Buffy felt no less conflicted. She tried talking to Willow—using Parker as cover—and received a similar reaction. Tara was sympathetic, telling Buffy: “Everyone deserves a second chance.” But, then again, she too thought Buffy was talking about Parker, not Spike. Buffy wasn’t ready to tell her friends that something was happening between her and Spike when she wasn’t sure what that something was. 

“Mom? Dawn?” Buffy called out as she stepped inside the house. 

“But what they didn’t get was that it was a copy of the bill of lading…” Joyce’s voice carried down the hall. 

Buffy followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen and paused at the sight of Spike casually sitting on the countertop listening to her mother animatedly recount a story about the gallery. 

“...so they thought it was another order form. So now I’ve got two Greek amphorae shipments!” Joyce waved her hands as she spoke. 

Buffy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. Warmth spread through her as she watched her mother tell her story with laughter in her voice and eyes. She looked better... good. Buffy glanced at Spike and noticed he was laughing, too. Not in the polite way people did to spare feelings. No, his laughter was genuine. 

“What did I miss?” Buffy asked from the doorway. 

“Oh, Buffy, you’re home.” Joyce greeted her with a warm smile. “I was just boring Spike and Dawn with work stories.”

“You could never be a bore, Joyce,” Spike said. 

Joyce let out a girlish giggle. “You’re being sweet. And speaking of sweet, Spike was nice enough to bring Dawn home after a little missing child scare I had earlier.” 

Frowning, Buffy walked into the kitchen and stood protectively by her sister. “Missing child scare?” 

“It— It was nothing,” Dawn rushed. “I got home early from school, and Mom wasn’t home yet, so I went to Spike’s to hang out.” 

Buffy lifted a brow. “You went to Spike’s to hang out?” 

“The Bit was bored.” He came to Dawn’s defense. “But, I figured, her bein’ out and about like that... I didn’t want your mum or you to worry.”

“Oh,” Buffy said with a frown. She wasn’t sure what to say. “Thanks.” She turned toward Dawn. “What were you doing at Spike’s?” 

“I figured it would be cool,” Dawn explained. “It’s not like Spike would hurt me or anything.” 

Buffy glanced at Spike, then back at her sister. “No... but it’s dangerous for you to be out right now, Dawnie. And what if Spike wasn’t around?” 

“But he was. So, it all worked out,” Dawn said with a shrug. “And he even bought us dinner!” 

“Spike was kind enough to pick up salads,“ Joyce explained, opening the refrigerator door. 

“Yeah, we stopped at the gas station on the way home, and he let me pick them out. Mom has the Cobb, and I got a garden for you. And look…” she reached inside the fridge and pulled out a pre-packaged bowl of salad. “Southwest chicken for me. It even has little Fritos in it. I figured it’ll be like a fiesta in my mouth.” 

Buffy stared at the salad in awe. He remembered. A smile twitched at the corner lips as she read Stop N’ Go on the packages. 

“You know, for those late-night slays,” he said with a slight smile. 

“Thank you…” 

They stared at each other for a moment before Buffy forced herself to tear her eyes away from him and look at Dawn. “Dawnie, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

“Yeah. What’s up?” 

Buffy took Dawn by the arm and led her out to the hallway. “I know you think hanging out with Spike is ‘cool,’ but it’s not safe out there and—” 

“I know, I know because of Glory. But I figure, if I’m going to hang out with someone, it might as well be Spike. He can keep me safe, too.”

“Dawn, what if Spike hadn’t been home and Glory found you?” 

“But she didn’t.” Bashfully, Dawn added, “Besides, Spike’s really strong, and he wears cool leather jackets. And he doesn’t treat me like an alien.” 

Buffy’s eyes widened at the goofy expression on Dawn’s face. Oh, my god. “You have a crush on Spike!” 

“No, I don’t!” Dawn squealed. “I just... I just like hanging with him is all I mean, I know he used to be scary and evil and stuff, but he’s not like that anymore.” She giggled. “He told me this really awesome scary story about— What?” She stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t act like you weren’t with Angel for three years. He used to kill things too.” 

“That was different,” Buffy muttered. 

Dawn shrugged. “Angel has a soul, and Spike has a chip. Same diff.”

The verdict was still out on that, but Dawn had a point.

“Well, except that Spike isn’t depressed all the time,” Dawn added. 

Buffy bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Fine. But you’re only fourteen, and you shouldn’t— It’s just icky, okay.”

“It’s not icky. I just like hanging with him is all. And I don’t have a crush on Spike. But, even if I did, he wouldn’t notice in a million years, anyway. He’s totally into you.” 

“Wh-what?” Buffy stammered, feigning surprise. 

“Oh, come on, Buffy! Like you haven’t noticed!” Dawn’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “And I think you like him, too.” 

Buffy blinked, speechless. She tried to gather her thoughts. "Spike is... he... he helps me sometimes, but…" 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “It’s okay if you like him, Buffy. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me,” Dawn said with a smile. “Besides, I think Spike is a friend now. And you know what they say about friends... the more, the merrier.”

“Dawn…” Buffy pressed her lips together. There was no point arguing with her little sister; once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to shake it loose. So she changed the topic. “It’s dangerous out there, and Glory is still… she’s still a threat. I just need you to come straight home after school.” 

Dawn threw back her head. “Fine.” 

Buffy reached out and tucked a lock of Dawn’s hair behind her ear. “I love you, Dawn.” 

Dawn gave her a tight, little smile. “I love you, too. And I’ll be safe. Promise,” she said, marking a cross over her heart.

“Thank you.” Buffy gave Dawn a meaningful look and followed her sister back into the kitchen where Joyce and Spike were waiting.

When had her little sister become so astute? One minute she was reading Harriet the Spy and hosting tea parties, and the next she was giving romantic advice. Where had the time gone?

“Everything all right?” Joyce asked, looking between the two girls.

“Yep,” Dawn said, kissing Joyce on the cheek. 

“What was that for?”

“No reason.” Dawn smiled at her mother. 

Spike hopped off the counter and turned to Joyce. “Mind if I borrow your eldest?”

Joyve shrugged and wrapped her arm around her Dawn’s shoulders. “What do you say we take our dinner to the living room? We can watch infomercials and poke fun at the actors,” Joyce said, guiding Dawn out of the kitchen. 

Left alone with Spike, Buffy stood across at him in nervous silence and tried not to think about how at home he'd looked sitting in her kitchen with her mom and sister. It wasn’t a bad look. In fact, Buffy admitted to herself, she found comfort in knowing he was looking out for them when she wasn’t around. 

Despite what Xander and Willow thought about him, Spike was becoming a friend. Sure, there were mishaps here and there, but he had proven himself to be a good friend lately. And as far as them liking each other... Crushes happen all the time, then they go away. Back in the ninth grade, she’d had a total crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and by the next year, she was swearing she was destined to marry Leonardo DiCaprio. 

“Thank you for bringing Dawn home. I don’t know what I would do if something…” 

Spike shook his head. “S’okay, Slayer. The Bit surprised me, showin’ up and all. But I figured, if I didn’t get her home, your mum would start frettin’. She’s already got enough to deal with. You both do.” 

"Yeah… I think Dawn gets it now, but thank you for looking out for her and my mom," Buffy repeated. Then added with a smile, “And for dinner.” 

“And I paid for it, too,” he joked. “Got the receipt to prove it.” 

Her smile widened. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, returning her smile. 

Buffy sucked in a breath and stopped herself from saying any more. “So, I, uh, checked out the train station this morning with Xander. We didn’t find any leads.” 

Spike’s eyes darted. “Oh, yeah? They could have been passin’ through. You know how it is; Sunnyhell attracts all sorts.” 

“True. But I thought I’d get in a quick patrol tonight. Don’t want the baddies to think I’ve been slacking.” 

“No, can’t have that. I was on my way out anyway…” He gestured to the door. 

Buffy looked down at her shoes. “Well, um, the cemetery is on the way... to all the other cemeteries. I could use the backup,” she finished on a single breath. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Buffy parroted. After a pregnant pause, she added shyly, “You know, if you keep helping me out, someone might mistake us for friends.”. 

Spike’s smirk was playful. “Are you asking to be my friend, Slayer?” 

“Noooo, I’m just saying... it can’t be good for your reputation, hanging out with the Slayer.” 

“My reputation’s already shot to hell anyway. Besides,” he teased, “it’s not like we aren’t already dating.” 

Buffy’s eyes grew wide. “Last night was not a date!” 

“Sure, it wasn’t.” His eyes danced with glee, making Buffy smile. 

“Keep it up, and this will be the shortest friendship ever,” she warned, well aware her tone said the opposite.


	11. Chapter 11

They saw each other nearly every day. It started with late-night patrols, then graduated to research with the gang. Spike fit in well with her routine; Buffy hadn’t noticed when she began looking forward to seeing him. When she started anticipating seeing him waiting for her outside of her house. Or when he dropped by to bring her news about some demon to slay. On the days they didn’t see each other, she found herself grumpy and out of sorts—missing his candid opinions and snark. It complemented her sass perfectly. 

She was still worried about Glory, but it appeared Glory didn’t want to be found, which incidentally worked out for her. Glory’s prolonged absence allowed her to hash out a plan, and Spike no longer had to invent reasons to see her. She was seeking him out, and somewhere along the line, their tentative friendship grew stronger. 

Without realizing it, they had created a routine. On Tuesday, he met her at The Magic Box after a training session with Giles. 

“I thought I’d never get out of there,” Buffy huffed, escaping through the backdoor of the shop. 

“Training or research?” Spike followed her out of the alley, matching her stride. 

“Training. Although, Xander in a padded bodysuit was pretty much worth it .” 

“Now, I would have liked to see that,” Spike said with an affable grin. 

“He swore us to secrecy, but I’ll try to smuggle out a picture one of these days.” 

Spike held the car door open for her, and she slid into the passenger side of his DeSoto. He fiddled with the radio for a bit before starting the car. “I found nothing new on Glory. It’s always the same: either someone has heard of her, or they have no soddin’ clue what I’m talkin’ about. Found a nest of vamps though,” Spike said as the car roared to life. “Rumor is they’ve been luring the nutters that’ve been roaming around town to the old warehouse on second.” 

“By the hospital…” Buffy frowned. 

“I know it isn’t directly related to Glory, but I figure you’d want to know... to help those people.”

A soft smile touched her lips. He was trying; she saw it now. “Yeah.” Tilting her head, she added, “so we can help those people.” 

“Right then,” he said, returning her smile.

++++

“You ever notice that Double Meat has a weird taste to it?” Buffy said, biting into her Happy Burger. "I mean, it tastes good. Just weird. Happy Burger is so much better." 

“That’s ’cause Double Meat’s not meat,” Spike said, passing her some fries. 

Buffy paused mid-chew and gawked at him. “What?” she asked around a mouthful. 

After clearing out the nest, she and Spike had escorted the survivors to the hospital where they were taken to the psych ward and processed. Not wanting the night to end, Buffy had suggested they stop and grab something to eat. 

“My taste buds aren’t always the most reliable, but I once ordered a rare burger, and that wasn’t blood I tasted. Haven’t gone back since.” 

Buffy swallowed and took a long slurp of her drink. “First, ew. Second, is nothing sacred anymore?” She passed the fries back to him. “I wonder how many people know about this? And why hasn’t anyone said anything?” 

Spike chuckled and swiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “People like their illusions, pet. The same reason the Hellmouth can keep tickin’ and everyone goes on pretendin’ none of the things they read about in the papers is real.” 

“Ignorance is bliss.” 

“Exactly.” Spike peered inside the paper sack and fished out a box of onion rings. “Sorry substitute,” he muttered, sniffing at it. 

“You and that onion blossom.”

“Hey, it’s the second-best thing this town had going for it.” 

“What was the first?” Buffy asked, reaching for one of his onion rings, and paused.

She hadn’t meant to ask that question; it sort of just slipped out. But now that it was out there, she wanted to hear his answer. Slowly, her eyes connected with Spike, meeting his gaze. She saw something brewing behind his deep blue eyes that startled and intrigued her. She wished she knew what he was thinking... because she might have been thinking it, too. 

“The views.” He grinned and reached for his drink. 

Both disappointed and relieved, Buffy forced herself to return his smile. “Agree,” she mumbled. 

++++

A week later, Spike got another tip about a crazy blonde chick with some serious power making trouble in Sunnydale. It was Harmony. Buffy stood at the edge of the crowd with Spike as the blonde vampire stood at a podium in the middle of downtown Sunnydale shouting at an avid audience of women. 

“We are strong, beautiful women! Well, some of you not so much. But that’s nothing a little Estée Lauder and a good plastic surgeon can’t fix. Anyway,” she giggled. “The point is, you deserve so much better. So, go home and tell that mean old boyfriend of yours that you’re taking back your power.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Preach sister!” 

Someone in the crowd cheered. 

“Right. Who runs the world?” Harmony shouted. 

“Girls!” 

Harmony giggled again. “Yeah, girls!” 

Buffy glanced at Spike, unable to hold back her laughter. This was serious power? “So, I see you and Harmony must be on the outs again.” 

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Muttering, he said, “She dumped me.” And moved away from the crowd. 

Unable to help herself, Buffy smiled. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Buffy placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. Harmony dumped you? When? How? Why?” 

“Yes. A couple of weeks ago. She got herself a new bloke.” 

Laughter bubbled up inside of her. She couldn’t imagine Spike getting dumped by Harmony, but then again, she could. “I’m shocked. I thought you two would make it. You know, really go the distance.” 

Spike gave her a look. “Ha. Ha. Go on, have your fun,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “And get this; she’s with some guy named Rusty Mc-something or the other.”

“McCormick?!” Buffy’s mouth parted again. She tilted her head, picturing the blond vampire with the beefy personal trainer. “Yeah... I can see it,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s filled out since high school.” 

“Yeah. That seems to be the consensus,” Spike said dryly. 

“Aw, you’re not jealous, are you?” She fake pouted as they turned another corner, leaving Harmony to her crowd of fed-up women. 

Spike shook his head. “Hardly. I hope she’s happy. Those two together, they might form half a brain. ‘Sides, there’s only room in my life for one thorn in my bloody side.” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, you love me,” she blurted without thinking and froze. “I mean—I didn’t mean it like--“ 

“I know…” Spike said and quickly changed the subject. “Let’s hit Sunnydale Memorial. Thought I saw some new plots. Might be something.” 

++++

“I can’t take this anymore,” Buffy moaned and flung a book across Spike’s crypt. 

He caught it deftly and frowned. “Your discussion post is due tonight, right?” he slid onto the sarcophagus beside her and passed Buffy her copy of The Bell Jar. 

“Yes,” she grumbled with a pout. 

“Then it’s got to get done.” 

Buffy sighed and threw her head back. “You were supposed to join me in my epic blowing off of homework and patrol with me,” she said, hopping down to the floor. “Come on, you know you want to.” She flashed him a saucy grin.

Spike bit back his grin and gave her a serious look. 

“You know,” she said with a coy sigh. “There’s probably some helpless damsel in distress right outside these doors needing our help. We could save someone right now.” 

“Uh, huh.” 

Buffy knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she didn’t stop. They were close; breathing him in, her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Spike moved closer, trapping her between himself and the stone cist. His eyes swept her face, lingering on her lips before returning her gaze. Buffy held her breath in anticipation. Spike placed his hands on her waist and sat her on top of the stone slab with a soft plop. 

Grabbing the book, he placed it in her hands and took a step back. “Read.” 

Unexpected disappointment washed over. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, I’m plenty of fun, pet. In fact, I can show you how much fun I can be.” His eyes lowered into a heavy-lidded gaze as he slowly scanned her body.

Buffy sat ramrod straight, walking back her flirtation. “I—uh—” She looked away. 

That always did the trick. 

“Right then,” Spike said, grabbing her discussion questions from on top of his television. “Where was I?” 

++++

Buffy winced with each step. She didn’t want to think about what was squishing around in her shoes. It had seeped beyond her socks and settled wetly between her toes. 

“Bad things always happen in the sewers, and yet I can’t seem to avoid them,” she groused, walking ahead of Spike. 

Spike shook his hand, flicking slime and ichor on the sidewalk near his feet. “Not too crazy about them myself, love.” He looked down at his shirt and grimaced. “Well, that’s going to stain.” 

They were covered in what was left of the Tarthrog demon they had chased down into the Sunnydale sewer system. It had been terrorizing Sunnydale residents over the past week, mostly grunting and growling at them. But according to Spike, they ate babies and small dogs. She suspected that’s where Mrs. Elliot’s annoying Pomeranian, Mr. Sniffles, had disappeared to.

“My house is close,” Buffy said, sloshing ahead of him. 

Ignoring the putrid smell lingering between them, she let them into her backyard and made a beeline straight to the water hose. 

“What’s that for?” Spike asked, hanging back. 

Buffy turned it on and aimed the steady stream of water at her feet. “I will probably have to burn this outfit, but I don’t want to get any of that totem demon in my house.”

“Tarthrog.” 

“Whatever.” She kicked off her boots and sprayed her feet with the chilly water. 

Spike peeled off his duster and laid it on the back of a lawn chair. Next, he peeled off his shirt and dropped it at his feet. Buffy’s mouth went slack. Blinking, she watched speechless as he took the hose from her limp hand and began spraying his chest. Buffy watched, transfixed, as droplets of water slid down his abdomen and disappeared into his jeans.

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from his glistening chest. Stop staring! Look at anything else. 

“I think I’m going to smell for a week,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. 

“It’ll fade after a good washing.” 

“I hope so.” 

“It’s not that bad. Believe me, I’ve smelled worse. After a while, you’ll get used to it.” 

“That’s the problem. I don’t want to get used to it.” She took the hose from him and began spraying herself down again. 

“Well, I won’t mind. You’re...”

Her hand froze as Spike inched closer to her. 

“You’ve got something just here,” he said in a hushed tone, reaching for her. She watched as Spike picked some slime from her damp hair. “There.” 

“Thank you…” Eyes soft, she looked up at him invitingly. Spike inched closer.

“Buffy!” Dawn called from the kitchen door, startling them apart. 

“What!?” They said in unison. 

Spike swiped his hand through his hair and stepped back. 

“Mom’s ordering pizza. She wants to know what kind you and Spike want.” 

Buffy glanced at Spike and gave him a rueful smile. “I could go for pepperoni,” she said to him. “Spike?” 

A slow grin curved his lips. “Sounds good to me. But, uh,” he looked down at his bare chest and dripping clothes. 

“Buffy has a robe!” Dawn suggested. “And I think mom still has a few of dad’s things. I’ll let her know,” Dawn said, disappearing back into the house. 

Smiling, she said, “I guess that’s settled."

++++

Buffy glanced over at the clock next to her bed. It was an hour after sundown, still early but not too early for a patrol. She tapped her pencil against her textbook and rechecked the time. She’d given up on studying hours ago but continued the exercise in futility because admitting she was waiting for Spike would mean that she missed him. 

I could just go see him, she told herself. She smiled softly at the mental image of him sitting alone in his crypt with a book in his hand, reading by candlelight. Giving in, Buffy pushed her school work aside and slid off her bed. 

“Mom, headed out for patrols! Be back later!” she said, heading out the door. 

++++ 

He wasn’t at his crypt when she got there. Disappointed, Buffy walked around the cemetery, lingering in the hope that he would return soon. Was he at the Bronze? Maybe he had gotten a tip about Glory? Or perhaps he and Harmony had made up and-- 

Ugh! What was wrong with her? This was Spike; she shouldn’t be having jealous-like feelings about Spike! And yet the thought of him reconciling with his ex made her... sad. 

It’s not like I want to date him.

And she didn’t! She just didn’t want him to see anyone else. 

Pouting, Buffy picked at the tip of her stake and tried not to imagine Spike out with anyone else—not that she cared. Nope, not at all. 

“Are you lost, little girl?” 

Annoyed, Buffy rolled her eyes and turned toward the sound of the vampire’s voice. He was interrupting some prime sulking. 

“Oh, you must be the vampire I’m going to slay tonight. And goody, you came right to me. How keen.” 

The vampire grinned, baring its sharp teeth. “Sassy. This is gonna be fun.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Buffy marched toward him. 

The vampire stuck first and missed. Bored, Buffy kicked him in the shin, momentarily crippling him. The vampire howled and elbowed her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Buffy staggered back as the vampire gained the upper hand. He struck her in the face, forcing her to stumble backward. 

“Not so sassy anymore.” He flashed her a wicked grin. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of sass left,” she replied, before connecting her fist with his face. 

Stupid vampire, she grumped, with his ridiculous accent. Punch. And his stupid washboard abs. Punch. Buffy continued to pummel the vampire with her fist, expelling all her pent up frustration on him. 

“Geez, lady, what’s your problem?” the vampire gurgled between hits. 

Buffy backed away. “My problem? I don’t have any problems. I’m perfectly problem-free.” 

She lifted the vampire by the lapels and had drawn back her arm to stake him, when she looked up and noticed Spike standing a few feet away. Her hands went slack, giving the vampire enough time to wiggle away. 

“Run, man! She’s nuts,” he said, shoving Spike into her. 

“Oomph!” Buffy fell to the ground with Spike’s weight on top of hers. 

“Bloody--! Sorry,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. Spike held out his hand to her. 

Buffy grabbed hold of it and allowed Spike to pull her to her feet. She planted one hand on his arm, curling her fingers around the supple leather of his duster. Heart beating wildly in her chest, she looked up at him. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. 

Gazing at her with apparent concern, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” she answered, nodding. She still hadn’t let go of his arm. 

They stood in a semi-embrace for several long moments. Buffy breathed him in—tobacco and cologne. No longer a figment of her thoughts, he was there in front of her—the reason she had patrolled at Restfield. Before she realized it, Buffy leaned into him and planted her lips softly against his. His body jerked in a moment of shock before he gave in and sank into the kiss. Buffy closed her eyes and allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. 

Wow, her thoughts cut into the foggy haze his kisses had turned her brain into. He kissed like he wanted to take her into his arms and carry her to bed. This was no shy fumbling of an awkward boy. He was a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Her knees grew weak. 

Spike traced his tongue across her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth to part for him. He led her into a sensuous dance, mating his tongue with hers. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more of his sweet torture, Spike nipped at her lip before crushing his mouth over hers in a way that made Buffy think of dark rooms and large plush beds. Spike pulled away with a soft peck, and all too soon, the kiss was over. Disoriented, Buffy’s eyes fluttered open. After a pregnant pause, she backed away from him in shock.

“Buffy…” He stepped forward. 

She stumbled away from him, turning into a sprint.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike watched her run away, still tasting her on his lips. Although he had thought of kissing Buffy often, it had come as a complete surprise to him. Late at night, alone in his crypt, he'd imagined the two of them working on one of her assignments; during a pause or a break, he’d gather her in his arms and kiss her. Then he’d make love to her... and after that, he’d shag her senseless. There had been times over the past month that his fantasies almost became a reality. But somehow they’d always get interrupted by her mum or little sis or one of the Scoobies. Spike had resigned himself to believing that anything more between them was an impossibility, and came to enjoy the easiness of his friendship with Buffy. Still, he had held out hope, and tonight, that hope had sparked.

Bloody hell, Spike cursed himself for being a fool. Instead of standing there like an idiot, he should have gone after her and—done what? Spike saw himself catching up to Buffy in his mind’s eye, but after that, he drew a blank. He imagined her laughing, dismissing his feelings as nothing more than a crush. 

Feeling bereft and alone, Spike continued down the path to his crypt, convinced that his friendship with Buffy was over because of a kiss he hadn’t even initiated. He had been on his best behavior around her: paying for things like some model citizen, helping her research, putting up with Xander’s shit. Not to mention all the times he had behaved like a perfect gentleman when she had flirted with him!

Spike paused, suddenly aware that tonight with Buffy hadn’t been his fault at all! She had kissed him! And quite wantonly, I might add. Spinning, Spike marched back toward the entrance. He had a bone to pick. Without a plan, he followed her scent to Revello Drive and stood in front of the house, watching the shadows moving around in Buffy’s room. Spike imagined her undressing in the dim lamplight, her skin the color of ripe apricots; he was there too, helping her out of the cumbersome barrier that kept them from becoming one-- 

Sodding kiss! Spike ran an agitated hand through his hair. It had been weeks since he allowed himself to indulge in sexual fantasies about Buffy. Ever since they had become friends, he tried to keep those thoughts at bay. Sometimes he was successful at it, and when he wasn’t, he had forced himself to ignore them. Now they all came flooding back in a painful reminder that throbbed achingly between his thighs. 

Angry all over again, Spike made it to her porch in two long strides and stopped. What was he going to say to her? He wasn’t a brute—using force to bend women to his will—that was more Angel’s style. In all his years of un-life, Spike had never taken what wasn’t freely given, and he never had to beg a woman for it either. Buffy had kissed him, and clearly, his kisses had distressed her to the point that she had run away from him. It was time to face the truth: she would never see him as someone worthy of her affections. 

Spike backed away from the house and into the shadows once again. 

++++

Several days passed, and Spike still hadn’t heard from Buffy. Every time he ventured to Revello Drive, Joyce informed him she wasn’t home; she was staying with Willow and her bird on campus. Spike knew when he was being avoided. He left each time without giving her a message. 

If Buffy didn’t want to see him anymore, then so be it, Spike resigned. There was nothing left for him in this rotten town anyway, nothing that was keeping him there, and nothing he had to look forward to. All he had to do was pack up his car and take off whenever he wanted. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. 

Slouching in his armchair, Spike mindlessly watched the tube—or rather, it watched him. Ignoring the laugh track, he stared at the screen, his face flat and expressionless. He needed some action, something he could do to get himself out of his current funk. Spike stood up and shrugged on his duster, deciding that anything was better than sitting around sulking over a woman. Without giving it much thought, he headed into town. 

Do a little people watchin’, and maybe take out a beastie or two, he thought as he walked down Main Street. 

Keeping his head down, he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and squeezed between a group of rowdy teenagers. 

“Hey, man, watch where you’re going!” One of them yelled. 

Because he was bored and hurt, and feeling peckish, Spike looked up, flashing yellow eyes and sharp teeth. 

“Holy shit!” The boy choked, stumbling to catch up to his friends. 

That’ll teach him to show a little respect, he thought, shifting back into his human form. Spike crossed the street to where the crowd was thinner, and he was less likely to bump into any more juvenile delinquents. He passed the Espresso Pump and paused, spotting Tara sitting alone inside. The witch had always been gracious to him, decent, not like the others. 

“Coffee’s ‘bout a step up from mud,” Spike said, joining her at one of the high top tables. “But, the pastries aren’t bad.” 

Tara stared at him for a moment before speaking. “S-Spike,” she stammered, looking over her shoulder. “Are you looking for Buffy?” 

He shook his head. “Buffy? Psht, no,” he denied. “Is she here?” he added, looking hopeful. 

“Oh. Um, no, I... Willow and I…” 

“Right.” Spike gave her a curt nod. “Well, I saw you sittin’ here, and I thought I’d say hello.” 

Tara shifted on her stool and sighed in noticeable relief when Willow arrived with their coffee. 

“One double mocha for you and a caramel latte for me,” Willow said with a cheery smile. Glancing at Spike, the corner of her lips turned down into a slight frown. “Spike.” 

“Lo,” he greeted her. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite chipped pain in the ass,” Xander sniped, joining them. 

Spike glowered at Xander. Even after months of working beside them, they still treated him like he was a bloody pariah. 

Xander gave him a quick once over, waving his hand in front of him. “Is he bothering you?” he asked Willow and Tara; they shook their heads in denial. Xander looked at Spike. “In five words or less, what are you doing here, Spike?” 

“Out. For. A. Walk... dork,” he said, counting off each word. 

Turning pink, Xander pointed his index finger in Spike’s face and said, “Look, just because Buffy seems to tolerate you now, doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten what you are. Or that the only thing holding you back is that chip.” 

Spike flexed his jaw. He could rip Xander’s throat out before they even realized what had happened. There’d be hell to pay after, he thought, imagining the headache tearing through his brain cells and frying his neurons. But it would be well worth the pain, just to wipe the smug look off Xander’s dopey face. 

Sneering, Spike turned away from Buffy’s friends. For a moment, he had made the mistake of believing that he belonged. That he and Buffy were friends. And that he had made a place in her life. Stomping away angrily, Spike bumped into a passing waiter, knocking a tray of mugs to the floor. 

++++

Buffy wasn’t avoiding Spike. She was taking a breather, refocusing on important things like chicken or beef flavored Ramen. She stared between the two packages before placing them back in Willow’s snack bin and sinking down on her friend’s bed. While Tara and Willow were out grabbing coffee, she had remained behind, enjoying some alone time. Buffy stared at the sleeping bag on the floor and sighed.

Okay, she was avoiding Spike. 

Buffy recalled their kiss. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his lips pressed against hers. Shivering, she rose to her feet and paced around the room. After the night at the cemetery, she had packed a bag and showed up at Willow’s dorm with an incoherent excuse about missing campus life. Buffy knew she couldn’t stay there forever, but she wasn’t ready to face Spike yet. They had kissed; everything had changed.

++++

“Buffy! We’re going to be late! Joyce called from the foot of the stairs. 

“Coming!” Buffy yelled from her room. She grabbed her jacket and ran down the stairs to where Dawn and Joyce were waiting for her. 

They headed to the hospital, where Joyce was being admitted for another round of tests. Buffy hoped they would give Joyce a clean bill of health. 

“I have a good feeling about this,” Joyce said as she pulled out of the driveway. “You girls just wait. I’ll be home in a few days, and we’ll celebrate. I’ll invite Mrs. Elliot and you girls can have a few friends over… maybe Spike could drop by.” 

Buffy coughed and looked out the window. “He’s probably busy,” she muttered. 

“Oh? He came by a few times last week looking for you.” 

“But you were hiding out at Tara and Willow’s,” Dawn chimed in from the backseat. 

“I wasn’t hiding out!” Buffy protested weakly. 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Could have fooled me. It’s like Scott Hope all over again. He was nice, too.” Dawn reflected. “And he used to like Justin Timberlake as much as I did.” 

Buffy stifled a grin. “You just make sure your homework is done.” Buffy shot daggers at her in the rearview mirror. 

Frowning, Joyce said, “Is something going on with your grades, Dawn?” 

“No!” She glared at Buffy and rode quietly in the back for the rest of the trip. 

“Here we are!” Joyce said, parking the car. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Buffy recognized the nervous jitter in her mother’s voice and forced a smile. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s just a necessary follow up.” 

They climbed out of the car with Dawn insisting on carrying Joyce’s overnight bag inside for her. Buffy watched in silence as Joyce checked herself in. Everything’s fine, she reminded herself, repeating the mantra over and over in her head. 

An hour later, Joyce was in her room with Dawn, and she headed to the cafeteria in search of pudding cups.

“Buffy?” 

Buffy turned around and smiled when she saw Ben dressed in his usual blue scrubs. She had been spending so much time with Spike that she had almost forgotten about him. 

“Ben! What are you doing here?” She shook her head. “I mean, I know what—are you on call?” 

“Yeah. Just doing some rounds. Is everything all right with your mother?” 

Buffy nodded. “Yes, she’s fine. Her doctor called her in for a few more tests. He wants to observe her overnight.” 

“That sounds about right. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Ben assured her. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” 

“Hey, why don’t I pop in and check on her,” he suggested. 

“I’m sure she’d like that.” 

“Alright.” Ben looked past her shoulders. Are you going to be down here long?" 

Buffy smiled. “As long as it takes to score some pudding.” 

“I’m due for a break soon. Maybe we can have some pudding together?” He returned her smile. 

Rebelliously, her mind conjured up an image of Spike. “Well, um…” 

“Look, this pudding comes with no pressure,” he said. “If you’re still down here by the time I’m on my break, we’ll have some together, and if not, maybe next time.” 

Relief flooded her cheeks. “Okay,” she breathed. 

“Well, I’ll just,” he pointed to the elevators. 

Buffy nodded and watched him disappear inside. She hurried to the cafeteria, so she could get back upstairs before Ben came back from his rounds. She thought of Spike again. She wasn’t ready for pudding yet. 

Buffy walked into the empty cafeteria and grabbed a few cups of the chocolate and vanilla snack packs. She was heading back to Joyce’s floor when she paused, her shoes skidding to a halt. Thinking she had seen Spike from the corner of her eye, she walked down a hall designated for staff only and spotted him handing a man dressed in scrubs a few bills in exchange for a cooler.

“Spike…” 

He looked up, his eyes wide. “Buffy, what—” He waved the man off and walked toward Buffy. “Is everything all right?” he asked with apparent concern. “Your mum…” 

She stood quietly for a moment, realizing for the first time that she had missed him while she’d been hiding out on campus. Why did I have to kiss him? Now everything was awkward and complicated. She didn’t need complicated in her life, not now. 

“Is fine. We’re just here for a few tests,” she repeated to him. “What are you--?” Her eyes darted toward a donation truck. “Oh,” she said, making eye contact with him again. 

“Yeah.” He looked away. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Slayer,” he said, turning away from her. 

No! She didn’t want him to leave... not yet. Conflicted, Buffy watched him turn away. Part of her wanted to stop him, but she wasn’t sure what to say. He’d want to talk about that kiss, and she wasn’t ready to have that discussion, not when she wasn’t sure what it meant. 

“Although.” He stopped and turned around. “We’ve got some unfinished business, you and me.” 

“What unfinished business?” she choked, feigning ignorance. 

Spike took two steps, closing the gap between them. “You know what.” He stared at her lips and added in a hushed tone, “The other night. You kissed me, Buffy.” 

“I—I did not. You kissed me!” 

Smirking, he said, “I certainly did. After you kissed me first. You can deny it, pet. But I was there, too. You kissed me that night.”

Buffy’s cheeks flushed at the memory of Spike’s lips pressed against hers and the hungry way she had kissed him back. “It doesn’t matter who kissed who,” she managed. “It shouldn’t have happened, anyway.” 

“First, why the hell not?” He frowned. “And second, I recall you were the one who leaned in 80 percent of the way. You know the eighty-twenty rule. The person who goes in 80 starts the kiss.” 

He was wrong! She did not lean in 80 percent of the way. It was more like 50. “Whatever,” she denied. “I kissed you, you kissed me. It doesn’t matter because it’ll never happen again.” 

“Again, why the hell not?” Spike tossed. “You wanted that kiss just as much as I did. And as I recall, you didn’t seem to mind it.” 

Buffy looked around self consciously. “It was a mistake,” she hissed. 

“Well, as far as mistakes go, it was a damn good one.” He lowered his voice. “Come on, Slayer. Don’t act like we haven’t been dancing around it for weeks. We kissed. And it nearly blew the top off my head,” he said with a slight smile. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she lied. 

“You can lie to yourself all you want, love. But you can’t lie to me. We’ve got something between us. It’s been there, growing until neither one of us could help it.” 

“That’s not... you’re just imagining something that—that isn’t there, because we’re friends now.” 

“No, it’s real.” His eyes pierced hers. “I love you, Slayer. I have, for a long time now. I know you don’t love me... But you feel something. It’s there, growing in your heart.” 

Buffy frantically shook her head. Spike couldn’t love her. Becoming friends was one thing... but falling in love? She frowned, confused by his declaration, and the yearning in her heart for his words to be true. They had grown close. And she felt something for him. 

“I don’t know what I—” she began. 

“All I want is my key!” Glory’s shrill voice pierced the air. 

Down the hall, something clattered loudly to the floor, and someone screamed. Buffy’s heart leaped in her throat. Dawn! 

“It’s Glory.” She panicked. 

“I’ll take care of her. You get the Bit and your mum.” 

Buffy shook her head. She couldn’t let him take on Glory. Spike was strong, but he was still no match for the hell-god. She needed him at his full strength just in case something happened to her. He was the only one who could protect Dawn. 

“No, take the service elevator to the third floor. She’s in room 316. Get them out of here, Spike. Please,” she pleaded.

“You sure? I can help,” he said, looking down the hall. 

“No. I can’t take that chance.” 

“Right then.” Without further delay, he took off down the hallway, leaving Buffy to face Glory alone. 

Buffy ran toward the commotion, taking in the destruction Glory had left in her wake. A security guard shambled forward and gripped Buffy’s arms.

“My eyes have beheld her beauty. So beautiful,” he raved glassy-eyed. 

Buffy gently pushed him off of her and hurried down the hall, spotting Glory when she turned the corner. “Blue is so not your color,” she snarked. 

Glory unlodged her hand from a nurse’s skull and whipped around. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little vampire Slayer coming to play.” She stalked forward with a smirk on her face. “You know, we could just skip all of this if you’d play nice and give me my fucking key.” 

“Gee, Glory, maybe I will if you ask nicely.” 

The hell-god plastered a sharp smile on her face. “I’m through being polite. I guess I’m just going to beat it out of you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

“Well, you know what they say. Give the people what they want.” Glory said, smacking her across the room. 

Weightless, Buffy sailed through the air and hit the opposite wall. Plaster crumbled around her as she picked herself up. I’m gonna feel that in the morning. Disoriented, Buffy barely had time to recover before Glory hit her again, landing a flurry of punches to her midsection. All she had to do was distract Glory long enough for Spike to get away with Dawn and her mother. 

Buffy winced through the pain. Ignoring the sound of her bones creaking beneath the weight of Glory’s fists, she reached up and dug her thumbs in each of the god’s eyes. 

“I told you to ask nicely,” she panted. 

Glory screeched, stumbling backward, covering her face in pain. Buffy watched slack-jawed as the air shimmered around the hell-god, making everything blurry. A few seconds later, she had disappeared, leaving Ben in her wake. Buffy blinked rapidly, confused at Ben’s sudden appearance. Where was Glory? She’d been there a moment ago, beating the snot out of her, and now she was gone. 

“Buffy!” Ben rushed forward. “Are you all right?” 

In pain, Buffy slacked against the wall. “Where did she go?”

“Who?” 

Wincing, she said, “Glory—she was right here a second ago.” 

Ben’s eyes darted to the side. “Oh, uh, I think she ran that way,” he said, pointing to the exit. “I think I distracted her. You’re hurt. Let me look at you.” 

Buffy shook her head. “No, I have—I can’t. I have to go.” She placed a hand over her ribs. 

“Buffy, you’ve got some broken bones,” Ben cautioned. 

Ignoring him, she hobbled toward the exit, praying Glory was nowhere near her home. Buffy pushed herself, walking through the pain as she made her way across town on foot. 

“Mom! Dawn!” she called when she made it home.

“In here!” Dawn called from the kitchen. 

Buffy limped to the kitchen and looked around. “Did she follow you here?”

Spike shook his head. 

Relief flooded her body, and her knees grew weak. “Thank God,” she breathed. 

“Buffy, you're hurt!” Joyce cried, alarmed. 

“I’m fine, mom,” she said, struggling to breathe. “Really,” Buffy added before everything went dark. 

++++

She raised her arms, allowing Spike to wrap another roll of bandages around her cracked ribs. 

“They’re healing already,” she said when he was done. 

“I reckon they are. Be about a day or two before you’re back in shape.” Spike gathered her first aid supplies and placed them back in the chest at the foot of her bed. 

Buffy rose to her feet, noticing that Spike had done a good job wrapping her up. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For this.” She looked down at her ribs. “And for helping my mom and sister.” 

“‘S nothing. All I did was run.” 

“No,” she shook her head. “You got Dawn out of there before Glory could hurt her.” 

Grimacing, he said, “but I left you to get all busted up. How did you get away again?” 

Buffy creased her brow. The details were still fuzzy. She remembered fighting Glory, and then Ben was there. “I—I don’t know,” she repeated. “But if Ben hadn’t shown up…” 

“The nurse was there?” 

“Doctor,” she corrected. 

“Whatever,” he said with a pinched look on his face. “So one minute you were fightin’ Glory, and then he showed up?” 

“He was there earlier, doing rounds.” 

“Oh.” 

“What?” Buffy tilted her head. 

“Nothin’. Whole thing sounds strange is all.” 

“You sound jealous.” 

“Of that git?” Spike scoffed. “Hardly. I just think it’s funny that he’s always sniffin’ around.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well, if he hadn’t come along, I might have been toast. I guess he distracted her.” 

“I guess,” Spike agreed skeptically. 

They stood silently, making Buffy acutely aware that they were alone in her room. She hadn’t forgotten his declaration of love, but now wasn’t the time to rehash it. 

“Buffy…” he began. 

“I’m going to check on Dawn,” she said, stepping around him. 

“Right.” He sighed. “I’ll just—” He followed her into the hallway. 

++++ 

She woke up at dawn. Following the scent of coffee, she headed to the kitchen where her mother was sipping a cup while looking out the window. 

“Morning.” Buffy yawned. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Joyce greeted her with a smile. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“I could use a cup.” Buffy sat at the table. “What are you looking at?” 

Joyce turned to face her daughter. “Nothing anymore. Spike just left. I think he was out there all night watching the house.”

Buffy lips parted. After checking on Dawn, she’d gone to bed, never expecting Spike to stick around. Outside, first light crept into the kitchen, reminding Buffy of the time. 

Before everything with Glory, he had told her he loved her, and then he had stayed and protected her house all night long. Buffy closed her eyes and reflected on the many nights they had spent fighting beside each other, laughing together, or arguing over nothing. He was right, there was something between them.

She had tried hard to ignore it, but she couldn’t anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

“Bloody hell!” Spike howled, ducking into his crypt. 

Frantically, he pounded at the fire that started on the top of his head. Alcohol-free gel my arse, he grumbled, wincing at the smell of burnt hair. He kicked the door closed and sighed in relief, grateful he had made it home in time. There weren’t too many places between the Summers residence and his cemetery where he could find shelter from the sun. Patting his tender scalp, Spike lowered himself onto his armchair and closed his eyes, fatigue getting the better of him. It had been years since he'd felt the urge to sleep during the day, having trained his body to function during both the daytime hours and nocturnally. But after spending the night keeping watch over the Summers women, Spike found it hard to fight the urge to fall into his bed and sleep. He blamed it on the stress of being on high-alert all night just in case Glory showed up. Dawn had assured him Red had worked her witchy-mojo on the house, setting up an alarm system that would sound if evil came anywhere near it. Spike had felt equally glad and dismayed nothing happened when he stepped on the property. That had been the writing on the wall, and his days of claiming that he was evil were over. He couldn’t say that he had any real regrets, not when it meant that he might have a chance with Buffy. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Before Glory’s sudden appearance interrupted them, he had finally worked up the nerve to tell her how he felt. And he had gotten the feeling that she was... well, he wasn’t sure what she had planned to say. But she hadn’t run away from him this time, and she had been willing to at least talk to him about it. Her hasty escape from the cemetery had stung, especially because she had opened up to him. Now, he wasn’t sure if they would have that opportunity again. Glory’s recent attack was another reminder that they couldn’t get too comfortable; she was still searching for the key. 

How the hell did Buffy make it out of there?

According to Buffy’s account, she shouldn’t have gotten out of that hospital alive, not the way Glory had beat on her. Spike recalled the purple bruising on her skin, growing angry all over again. His blood screamed for retribution. If Ben hadn’t shown up when he did… Spike couldn’t muster up any gratitude—not because he was jealous—because he didn’t trust the poofter. Buffy had said he must have distracted the hell-god. With what, his striking good looks? Hardly. There was something there, he just didn’t know what. Drifting, Spike wondered if Rupert had something in one of those dusty books at the magic shop… 

++++

Spike woke up with a gasp, the sound of knocking startling him out of slumber. Groggy and disoriented, he shuffled to his door and snatched it open. “Whatever you’re selling, not—Clem?” he said to the fleshy demon standing in his doorway. They had met a few weeks before during kitten poker. 

“Heya, Spike!” Clem waved, and his arms waddled back and forth. 

“What are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember, do you? Last game, you were short a basket of Siamese kittens, so I loaned you a few British short hairs.” He smiled. “Anyway, you said I could come over and use your television since mine went on the fritz.”

Confused, Spike scratched his temple. He’d been pretty sloshed that night and would have agreed to anything. “I uh—now’s not a good time,” Spike hedged.

“Oh, that’s too bad. There’s a new episode of Fear Factor tonight, and I’ve got Sangria! There’s enough for two,” he said, holding up two four packs of the miniature wine bottles. “But if you want me to go…” 

Spike shook his head. “Wait.” Sighing, he opened his door wider. “Come on in,” he said. “Chair, television, slab.” He waved his arm, giving Clem the grand tour of his living space. 

“Nice digs.” The demon looked around, nodding with approval. “Good real estate is so hard to come by in Sunnydale these days.” 

Spike hooked his fingers into his belt loops. “Well, make yourself at home,” he said, shrugging on his duster. 

“But you’ll miss Fear Factor.” 

“I’ll catch the reruns,” Spike said on his way to the door. “If the sl—if anyone comes by…” he dropped his head. “Just make something up.” 

“Sure, whatever you want, buddy!” Clem waved him off. 

++++ 

Buffy spent the day in her room recovering while Joyce and Dawn waited on her hand and foot. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have enjoyed spending the day loafing around getting pampered. Dawn hadn’t been this nice to her since she had gotten the flu.

“I really wish you’d find that awful Glory and slay her,” Joyce said, bringing Buffy soup in bed. 

If only it was that simple. “Don’t worry, mom, the gang and I are working on it. Promise.” 

“I just wish we could go one week without some monster trying to kill you. Does it ever end?” 

No. Not ever. 

“But thank god Spike had shown up when he did.” Joyce smoothed the comforter down at the foot of the bed. “He really cares about you, Buffy.” 

Buffy sat up and winced. “You think so?”

Smiling wistfully, Joyce said, “Despite what you may think, I was a young girl once, too. And I remember what it was like to have a guy look at me the way Spike looks at you.”

Buffy frowned, trying to imagine a time when Joyce Summers wasn’t her mom. “He looks at me a certain way?” 

“Oh, yes... like the sun rises and sets on you.” Joyce laughed. “Well, maybe not the sun... but you know what I mean.” 

“Did dad ever look at you like that?” 

“Yes... and when he did, nothing else mattered.” Joyce looked down at her hands. “But that was a long time ago. Now, I’m lucky if a man even notices me at all.” 

Buffy smiled at her mom. “Someone will look at you like that again.” 

“Maybe.” Joyce shrugged. “In the meantime, I want you to get some rest, young lady.”

“Mom—“ Buffy called. “When Spike left this morning, did he say anything?” 

Joyce shook her head. “Not a word. He was just standing out there waiting.” She paused for half a beat. “You know, Buffy, I’m glad you have him as a friend.” 

Buffy closed her eyes. Except he was a little more than a friend now, wasn’t he? 

I love you, Slayer. I have, for a long time now. 

Did everyone else seem to notice but her? Dawn had known; apparently, so did Joyce. How could she have missed it? Even when she knew something was there, she had ignored it, focusing instead on Spike’s missteps rather than the parts about him. But now that she was aware of his feelings... and hers, what was she going to do about them? 

++++

“So, Glory attacked you at the hospital, and your friend Ben helped you get away?” Giles asked. 

Buffy eased down on the sofa and nodded. “That’s the thing... I don’t really remember how I got away. We were fighting, and then Ben showed up.” 

“I see,” Giles said while cleaning his glasses. 

“Spike got Dawn and my mom out of the hospital while I was fighting her and brought them home.” 

Giles returned his eyeglasses to his face

“That was rather noble.” 

“Spike… he’s changed a lot…” she said, fiddling with the fringy part of the throw pillow she held in her lap. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Giles agreed. “At first, I thought it was for survival. He’s adapting to his new predicament, so naturally, he’d gravitate to those who also have better defenses. But then he does things like putting himself in harm’s way.” 

“Which defeats the purpose,” Buffy finished. 

“Precisely.” Pausing, Giles added, “He came by the magic shop today.” 

“Was he looking for me?” 

“No. A book. He came in to do some research. I found him down in the storage room where I keep my private collection. Spike told me what happened with Glory. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t know my Slayer had gotten seriously injured.” 

Buffy gave him a rueful look. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“It’s my job to worry about you, Buffy. I’m your Watcher. I should know these things.” 

“I know. Everything happened so fast, and today mom and Dawn insisted on taking care of me. So, I just didn’t think about it.” 

“I understand. I’m glad Spike told me about your injuries. Funny, he never mentioned his role in last night’s events…” 

“He didn’t?”

“No, he seemed more interested in finding out more about Glory.”

“He came through last night. My mom told me he stood outside, watching the house until right before dawn.” 

“I suppose I owe him a debt of gratitude. And your friend Ben, too.” 

Buffy grew quiet, unsure if she could or even should talk to Giles about her growing feelings for Spike. Her last relationship with a vampire had gone terribly for him. She never got over Ms. Calendar. 

“Giles…” Buffy hesitated. “I really think Spike is changing. Last night wasn’t the first time he’s helped me since Glory came to town. And it’s not just with demon stuff either. He’s helped me with my assignments, and my grades are even improving. He looks out for Dawn and my mom. And you’ve seen him help us with research. He’s... different now.” 

Sighing, Giles pressed his lips into a thin line. “Well, it’s not unheard of for some demons to change sides or do good. You’ve seen it yourself with Angel.”

“But he was cursed. He didn’t have a choice in the matter.” 

“A soul doesn’t prevent someone from doing acts of evil.” 

“Neither does a chip. But even without a soul weighing him down with a guilty conscience, Spike’s choosing to do good. That has to count for something, right, Giles?” 

Buffy waited for his answer with bated breath. She needed confirmation from her Watcher that he wouldn’t hate her forever for falling in love with another vampire. Doing it once was unheard, but a second time…

“Well, yes,” Giles hedged. “Spike is unique in that regard. And although the chip may have been the catalyst for this change you’re seeing in him, the important thing is that he is on our side—another solider for good.” 

Buffy sighed in relief.

Giles studied her for a moment before asking, “Are you developing—do you have feelings for Spike?”

She glanced down at her opened palms, and after a lengthy pause, nodded.

“I see…”

“I mean, I’m not sure what I feel. I like spending time with him. I know in the past he was—but now he can be so thoughtful. And funny. And last night, he stayed here all night, protecting us.”

“You’ve always been unorthodox, Buffy, never doing the expected. And I realized that about you the moment you walked into my library. Acting as your Watcher has not been an easy task; you’ve challenged me every step of the way. I’ve had to adapt myself to your way of doing things.” Giles paused for a moment. “I say all of this because I trust your judgment. You’re not a child anymore, Buffy; you don’t need my approval to be with Spike. Or anyone else, for that matter. Clearly, you’ve become a positive influence over him—enough to make him want to change. It appears you’re exactly what he needs. Now, ask yourself: is he what you need?” 

++++

That talk with Giles had helped Buffy put some things in perspective. Over the past few weeks, she'd depended on him more than she'd ever realized. But she looked to him for advice, often seeking his opinion about Dawn and Glory. She enjoyed his company. His friendship was a source of comfort for her. And she genuinely liked him. So, what am I still doing here?

Buffy waited until after Giles left to find Spike. Beading to the cemetery first, she thought about what she would say to him. By the time she made it to his crypt, she still hadn’t figured out what to say. Forcing herself to make up her mind, she ignored the jumble of nerves in her gut and marched through his door. The crypt was empty, but the television and lamps were on. She heard someone rummaging behind the stone slab at the center of the room. 

Without preamble, Buffy said, “you were right. I feel—I have feelings for you. And it scares me. You scare me. The way you look at me and the things you say... I don’t know--“ 

Someone cleared their throat. 

“Hi... uh, sorry for interrupting,” Clem said, popping up from behind Spike’s sepulcher.

Buffy’s breath caught in her chest, and her face grew hot. 

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you kept talking, and I’m going to assume that speech wasn’t for me.” 

Buffy shook her head. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. But if you ask me that came straight from the feels.” Clem placed a hand on his chest. “Really tugged on the heart strings.” 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Oh, hi, I’m Clem,” he said, crossing the room to offer Buffy his hand. 

Buffy looked around. Was she in the right crypt? “Does Spike not live here anymore?” 

Clem chuckled. “Oh, yeah, this is Spike’s place. He let me come over to watch some television. Mine is on the fritz. But the cable went out for a moment, hence me crawling around back there,” he said, hitching his thumb toward the large slab behind him. 

Confused, Buffy stared at Clem for a moment. Spike had friends? “Okay,” she said, dragging out the word. “Do you know where he is?” 

“Um, not sure. He left a little while ago. Seemed like he was in a hurry or something. Would you like me to give him a message?” 

Buffy couldn’t believe her life. She had just poured her heart out to a demon who looked like a deflated whoopee cushion, and now he was asking to take Spike’s messages. 

“No—yes.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Tell him that Buffy came by and—“ she stopped, shaking her head. “You know what, nevermind.” 

“You sure? It’s no trouble at all.”

“No, it’s okay… and please—don’t—I wasn’t here.”

++++

Spike sat at the bar alone, ignoring the drunken frat boys chugging down gallons of beer a few tables away. It was two-dollar pitcher night at the Bronze, and the call of cheap domestic brew had brought out some of UC Sunnydale’s finest scholars. Spike signaled the waiter for another shot of bourbon. He welcomed the hazy effects of alcohol; It made everything seem softer. Yeah, that was it. Softer. His mind was much too clear. Spike needed something to smooth out the rough edges. 

The ball was in her bloody court now. It was up to Buffy to decide how they moved from now on. Spike took another shot, comforted by the alcohol burning in his chest, warming his gut. He hated this anxious feeling of uncertainty between them. At least when the Slayer hated him, he knew where he stood with her. Every time he thought they had made some progress, something always seemed to-- 

“Spike…” His name barely carried over the music and loud bar chatter. But he could recognize her voice anywhere.

Spike froze. Mustering up the nerve, he turned to face her.

“I went by your place,” Buffy said. "But your friend Clem was there. So, I came looking for you."

“You met Clem? You were at my crypt?”

Buffy nodded. “I wanted to tell you—whew!” She shook her hands. “I—“ Buffy stopped and glanced around the bar. “Actually, do you mind if we move somewhere a little less conspicuous?” 

Spike rose to his feet. “No…,” he said, unsure what this was all about. He wished she’d get on with it, rip the bandaid off. It was better to shoot him down painfully in a few quick words rather than drag out this agony. 

They moved to a shadowy corner beneath the catwalk, away from most of the crowd. Spike tried relaxing his shoulders, willing himself to play it cool.

“I’ve been thinking about you—us,” Buffy began. “And you were right, I do have feelings for you, Spike.”

Spike stared at her in disbelief, not trusting his ears. “What are you saying?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What don’t you know?” he probed. 

“I don’t know what that means for us. You and me... together.” 

He didn’t know the answer to that either, but damn, he was willing to find out. “What do you want, Slayer?” 

Their eyes locked. And she was looking at him in a way that made Spike want to take her in his arms. “What do you want, Buffy?” He needed to hear her say it. 

Her breath hitched. “You,” she said finally. 

That was all he needed. Angling his mouth over hers, Spike gathered her close. No, she hadn’t professed love, but her admission had opened the door to the possibility. His lips worked feverishly over hers, trying to make her forget her doubt. Spike groaned as she slid her hands up his arm and curved around his neck, dragging him closer. He nuzzled against her throat before capturing her lips again.

He was sinking again, drowning in her scent, her touch, the warmth of her embrace. Spike smoothed his hands over her back and pressed them against the small of her back. Cupping her hips, he filled the notch between her thighs, aware of how well they fit.

Around them, the music continued to play, but neither seemed to notice as they kissed. 

And kissed. 

And kissed.


	14. Dirty Little Secret

Glory was a problem. 

Ever since Ben could remember, she’d been an unwanted apparition in his life, hanging back in the shadows, haunting him. When he was a boy, he’d hear her voice talking to him. At first, Ben thought it was an imaginary friend, but he soon realized that his “friend” wasn’t friendly at all. She’d yell at night, keeping him awake with violent shrieks about returning home with some key. When Glory wasn’t yelling, she’d try to cajole him into acting out against his parents and others. Desperate to make her go away, Ben spent his childhood searching for Glory’s key, continually looking around his home, school, anywhere he went. He had even stolen some keys from the hardware store once, hoping that he’d find it among the box of assorted colored metal. 

As time moved on, and he’d grown older, Ben learned to ignore the hell-god. She was still in his head, sometimes asking for his help sweetly, and other times threatening to end his life. Once he became a teenager, Ben discovered that Glory needed him around. She had let it slip one day when he’d been so desperate to get rid of her that he had attempted to take his life. After that, he had stopped hearing her as much, and then she was gone. From that point, he had made a promise to himself that he would help people. He wouldn’t be like Glory, who was often cruel and selfish. Ben excelled in school, making top grades; eventually graduating as valedictorian. He went on to college and later medical school. All the while, Glory had lain dormant, silently biding her time until she grew strong enough to break free. 

The first time Glory had gotten her “glimpse” was the day of his board exams. It had only lasted a few minutes, but it almost ruined his chances of becoming a doctor. Glory had taken control of his body while all he could do was wait, helpless, trapped in his mind. Soon, her glimpses became more frequent, causing him to lose days at a time. He lost friends, relationships, and even jobs because of Glory. Out of desperation, Ben had taken the position at Sunnydale Memorial, moving from Seattle to Sunnydale for a job that paid much less in a town with a freakishly high mortality rate. The moment he arrived in town, Glory seized control again, and this time for extended periods. Her key was close and somehow being near it strengthened her. 

Sometimes he wished she would just find her key already and put him out of his misery, but he knew that meant death for everyone else. He’d listened to Glory’s rants long enough to realize that finding her key meant bad news— destruction, the actual apocalypse. He’d taken an oath to help people, not destroy them. So, as long as he was in control, he would make sure she didn’t find that key. Except, it was getting harder since the key kept finding him. 

Ben dragged his hands through his hair, picturing Buffy bruised, broken, and confused when Glory had vanished. Ben thanked God for small blessings. Whatever mojo that had fused him and Glory together, also made people forget what they had seen. That often left him in an awkward position, but he was glad that Buffy hadn’t discovered his secret yet. As ridiculous as it was, he had developed a crush on her. She didn’t know he shared a body with Glory, and he intended to keep it that way. For weeks he had been searching for a way to keep Glory locked away again. He had done it once before, but this time he was looking for something permanent. 

“Welcome to The Magic Box! We look forward to taking your money!” 

Ben gave the overly eager store clerk a strangled smile and nodded. “I, uh--“ 

“What Anya is trying to say is, please look around and let us know if you need any help finding anything,” Willow said, crossing the room to greet him. 

Shocked, Ben struggled to find his words. “Willow,” he managed. “I didn’t know you worked here.” 

“She doesn’t!” Anya said, nudging her way in front of Willow. “She just likes to butt in. How can I help you?” 

“Oh.” Ben looked between the two women, unsure who he should ask for help. “I was looking for, uh, something for a patient.” 

“You’re exploring holistic treatments? Nice,” Willow said. “I know my way around a herb or two.”

“I’m looking for Gilliflower and Ash Clove,” Ben said, his eyes darting around the shop. 

“We have that!” Anya chimed in. “I just had a delivery of dried Gilliflower this week. So you’re in luck. And I should have some Ash Clove around here somewhere,” she said, rummaging around in the display box. 

“Gillflower and Ash Clove?” Willow asked. 

Ben colored. “Yeah. I’ve been reading up on some natural remedies and thought I’d try something different.” 

Willow smiled thinly. “Those are suppressing agents.” 

“I know. I’m—My patient is in a lot of pain, and the morphine just isn’t working anymore.” 

“Oh, well, I hope it helps.” 

“Me, too,” Ben said, watching Anya place a bone on the display case next to some dried herbs. 

“Here you go!” She beamed triumphantly. 

Ben reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” 

“That’ll be sixty-five dollars, and for a limited time, you can get this nifty singing bone for the low price of ninety-nine dollars.” 

Ben stared at the bone and shook his head. “I’ll, uh, just stick with these,” he said, placing his hand on the counter. 

“Are you sure? It’s a wonderful conversation piece,” Anya pressed, thrusting the bone in his hand. 

The moment he touched it, an ethereal voice filled the room. _Tall tales he spins, but there is more to his story. Blink an eye, and you’ll find that Ben is Glory._

Ben’s heart stopped. He looked between Willow and Anya, expecting them to pounce at any moment. “That’ s--“

“You know Glory?” Anya asked incredulously. 

“I, uh, I was--” 

“He was there when Glory attacked Buffy the other night,” Willow explained. “You haven’t seen her around, have you?”

He shook his head. “No. Not since that night. But I’ll keep an eye out for her.” 

“Or run,” Anya warned. “If I were you, I’d definitely run.” 

“Yeah... that too,” he said, his voice weak with relief. “I’ll uh, just pay for these now.” 

“Right! Cash or credit?” Anya asked. 

Ben stared at the bone, then back at his wallet, and cringed. He barely had enough for the Ash Clove. Handing her the cash, he contemplated snatching the bone from the counter. _I wouldn’t make it past the door, he thought,_ glancing at Willow. 

“Lovely doing business with you. Please come again!” Anya handed him a paper shopping bag. 

Smiling weakly, Ben took it and thanked her. 

They still didn’t know about Glory. The magical enchantment cloaking her identity was still intact, and he was still in the clear. If all went well, he’d suppress Glory for good, and no one would ever get hurt again. 

++++

Time stopped whenever Spike’s lips met hers. Buffy’s heart pounded as his kisses only seemed to intensify with each passing moment. She lost herself in the sensation of his mouth, the mastery of his rhythm, and how addictively he invaded all her senses. His tongue stroked hers, quick and electric at first, then firm and deliciously slow. Gasping, Buffy reluctantly dragged her mouth away and rested her forehead against his. Breathing was optional, right? 

“S okay, love…” Spike murmured, brushing his lips down the column of her throat. 

Buffy sighed, arching her neck, giving him more access. It was getting late, and she had promised her mom she’d watch Dawn that evening while she did a show at the gallery. But every time she intended to leave, Spike would kiss her, making it hard to remember she had plans. His lips were like a drug; she couldn’t get enough of him. 

“I have to go,” she whispered against his mouth while threading her fingers through his hair. 

Spike tightened his legs around hers. “Do you?” 

Resisting the urge to kiss him again, she forced herself into an upright position and looked down at their entwined limbs. She couldn’t remember when they had moved from his chair to the slab, but judging by the lack of natural light in the room, it had been a while ago. 

“Mom has a thing at the gallery tonight. I’m on babysitting duty.” 

Spike nodded and leaned on his elbows, watching her with hungry eyes. Lust punched Buffy in the gut as she took in his disheveled hair and bare chest. When had his shirt come off? She reached under her blouse and re-clasped the front hook of her bra. _Probably about the time that happened._

“I understand, pet,” he said, reaching for a lock of her hair. “You’ve got responsibilities and all that.” 

“I know what you’re trying to do.” 

“And what’s that?” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. 

“You’re trying your best to look all sexy and irresistible, so I’ll be late again.” 

She’d been running late all week thanks to Spike, and he’d attempted to discourage her. Both welcomed the distraction. As a result, tardiness had become a regular occurrence for her ever since that night at The Bronze. Since then, they'd seen each other every day after classes or in between patrols. He came by her house, too, often staying until well after Dawn and Joyce had gone to bed. Buffy didn’t question their new routine, preferring to allow things to develop organically. In other words, they hadn’t talked about it. Every time they saw each other, the question loomed over their heads: what are we? But she wasn’t ready to answer it... not yet. 

“Is it working?” He grinned. 

Buffy rolled her eyes and slid onto the floor. “No.” Her voice was firm as she refastened the button on her jeans. 

Spike hopped down from the slab and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “Kid sis is lucky to have you,” he said, sounding somber. 

Buffy looked him in the eye. “You think so?” 

“Yeah, I do. Puts on a good front, but she practically worships you.”

Her lips curved into a crooked smile, and she looped her arms around his neck. “You’re good at this.” 

“Good at what?” 

_The whole boyfriend thing? Wait. Was he her boyfriend?_ Buffy’s eyes darted to the side. “At reading people.” 

Spike shrugged. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, it gets easier. Like…” his eyes roamed over her. “Right now, you’d rather be snoggin’ me.” He slid his hand down her back. 

She didn’t want to leave, but babysitting duties called. “Why don’t you come?” she suggested on impulse. “I mean, if you want.” 

“You’re askin’ me to look after the Bit with you, Slayer?”

Buffy nodded. Why not? She wanted to spend more time with him. Besides, it would give them something to do, other than sucking face for hours. 

“All right,” he said without hesitation. 

++++

Spike placed a bowl of popcorn in front of Dawn and rejoined Buffy on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and delighted when she snuggled against him. This was better than anything he had imagined. Sure, he was sitting around with her kid sis watching some chick flick starring Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, and Lucy Lui. Still, Spike couldn’t think of any other place he’d rather be. Having a relationship with Buffy was much easier than he'd thought it would be; she was more than a fighting, killing machine. She was someone whose thoughts interested him. He could have entire conversations… that he understood. Although, there had been little conversing the past few days. 

A slight smile touched his lips as he recalled the days he and Buffy had spent together since the Bronze. Don’t bollocks this up. He’d do things her way, take it slow, follow her lead. Spike drew Buffy closer to his side and tried to concentrate on the movie when the phone rang. 

“I got it!” Dawn said, lunging toward the phone. “Oh, hi, Xander.” She sounded only slightly disappointed. “Buffy?” Dawn craned her neck, eyes darting between Spike and Buffy. “She’s…” 

Buffy sat up and began miming washing her hair. Frowning, Spike watched Buffy motion toward her head while mouthing something to her sister. 

“Uh, she’s being chased by a swarm of bees,” Dawn rushed.

Buffy shook her head and mimed harder. 

“Ha. Just kidding. She’s washing her hair. Sure, I’ll let her know. Talk to you later,” she said, rushing off the phone. “Sorry.” 

“That was a close one,” Buffy said with palpable relief, prompting Spike to shift away from her. 

“Yeah, close call,” he said, rising to his feet. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Dawn asked. 

Spike stared at Buffy for a moment before walking to the kitchen. 

“Spike…” Buffy called after him. 

“No need to explain, pet,” he said, shaking his head. “I understand.” 

“Stop.” Buffy walked around the island and grabbed his arm. “It’s not like that—it’s not how you think…” 

“Then what is it like? Looks to me like you didn’t want Harris findin’ out your dirty little secret.” 

Cringing, Buffy said, “You’re not my dirty little secret.” She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest. “Maybe my naughty one,” she teased. 

Spike’s lips twitched into a reluctant half-smile. “That’s not gonna work.” 

“What?” she said coyly. 

“This,” Spike waved his hand between them. “What you’re tryin’ to do.” 

_Shut up, you stupid git. Shut up._ He was going to ruin everything. So what if she wanted to keep their relationship a secret from her friends? He could live with that. He didn’t give a shit if they liked him or not… so then why did it matter so much that she didn’t tell Harris I’m here? 

“I’m going to tell them about us,” Buffy said as if she had read his mind. 

“Yeah?” He didn’t believe her. 

“Yes.” She rubbed her hands down his arms. “I just—I need some time.” 

Spike stared into her eyes, noting the conflict in her eyes. She had admitted to having feelings for him, but it was still a struggle for her. He’d been around her Scoobies long enough to observe how judgemental they could be. Hell, they judged him every chance they got. 

“Then what? You’re gonna tell them I’m your guy?” 

Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll tell them. Giles already knows.” 

Spike raised his brow. “Rupert knows?” 

“Well, not in the sense of actually knowing, but he has suspicions.” 

“Right.” 

“And he says he trusts me.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m going to tell the others. I will.” After a lengthy pause, she added, “There’s a party on campus tomorrow. Anyone can come. Maybe we could not go together.”

“Are you asking me on a not-date?” 

“If you want… the others will be there. It’ll be good for them to see us together.” 

Hanging out with her friends wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was a start. “All right,” he agreed. 

++++ 

On the night of the party, Spike paced his crypt, playing out his upcoming date with Buffy in his mind. He imagined the reaction of her friends once they realized that Buffy had invited him. Spike pictured the stupefied look on Xander’s face and smirked. He ran his hands through his hair and sniffed his shirt. Satisfied, he locked up the crypt and drove to the campus.

Music wafted from the frat house as party-goers filtered in and out the front and back doors. Spike squeezed past a couple blocking the front entrance and stepped onto the welcome mat before walking inside. Someone handed him a red cup as he moved through the house, looking for any signs of Buffy. He sniffed at the cup before taking a drink. 

Spike made his way to the great room, hugging the shadows. He spotted her right away... talking to that wanker, Ben. Spike looked down at his boots, then back at Buffy. She was smiling at Ben as they chatted a few feet away. She laughed at something he said, and Spike’s heart dropped. 

Turning away, he headed toward the door, nearly colliding with a petite brunette. “Sorry, love,” he muttered. 

“Have you seen Warren?” she asked, plastering a smile on her face. 

Spike glanced at Buffy, then turned his gaze back to the girl. She was attractive if you like that sort. His eyes roamed her compact body, forcing a lusty smirk on his face. “And who are you darlin’?” 

“I’m April.” She gave him another plastic smile. 

Spike looked at Buffy again, and his eyes lingered. 

“I’m looking for my fella.”

“Maybe you just found him.” The words felt heavy on his tongue. 

“Really? Where?” she said with excitement. 

Spike leaned forward and whispered the most vulgar thing he could think of in her ear-and instantly regretted it. He used to play these sorts of games with Dru whenever her roaming eyes became too much for him to ignore. _Bloody hell._

April drew her head back with an angry look. “Oh,” she gasped. 

“Spike, who’s your friend?” Buffy asked, walking up to them, her face tight. 

April lifted Spike by his lapels before he could answer Buffy. 

“Hey!” he shouted. 

“That would be wrong. You are not my boyfriend!” she said, before tossing Spike out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with Ben. The more I think about his role in everything, it made me wonder about him. What was his childhood like? Did he have a traditional childhood? Or was he fashioned to keep Glory housed? Since Glory is a hell-god, I envisioned him as sort of like a Rosemary's baby type thing. I searched the interwebs and all the Wiki's for some answers and got very general bios on Ben, so I thought: why not? 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on Ben. Have you ever thought of his origin story?


	15. For-realsies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some dialogue from "Made to Love You," and one line from the comics "Love Dares You pt III." There's also one line that I borrowed from my fic Love & Thunder... & Vampires. And if you're interested in deep cuts, a really tiny reference to one of my favorite television shows, "Doctor Who." Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think about these subtle changes I made to what we saw in canon. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Buffy took a tentative sip of her punch and glanced around the crowded room. Music blasted from an oversized speaker that doubled as a cocktail table for discarded cups. Eyes trained on the door, Buffy watched as party-goers wandered in and out of the frat house. Her stomach did nervous flips every time someone entered the room. She had planned on telling her friends about Spike that night, and she wasn’t sure how they’d take it. Buffy was sick of all the sneaking around behind everyone’s back; she didn’t have the energy to hide her feelings for Spike anymore. 

Besides, had she said anything about Anya when Xander started dating her? What about the time Tara thought she was a magic demon and hid it from them? She had said nothing about that either. Spike was no different than Anya—she probably killed way more people than Spike ever did anyway—and they accepted her. Everyone had accepted Anya’s transformation from vengeful demon to quirky doesn’t-have-a-social-filter human. So why couldn’t they accept Spike? He had changed, too. 

_Where is he?_

“Buffy!” 

Buffy turned at the sound of her name and smiled when she saw Ben approaching her. “Ben! Hey. And again with the non-medical clothing.” 

Grinning, he looked down at his jeans and said, “Well, actually, these are orthopedic pants.” 

Buffy gave him a blank stare. _Levi’s made orthopedic jeans?_

“Man, that sounded so funny in my head.” 

_Oh, he’s joking._ Worrying about Spike standing her up was throwing Buffy off her game. She forced a fake laugh and added some volume to it for good measure. _Where is Spike?_ “It’s very funny in my head, too,” she said. 

An awkward silence fell over them. “So, are you having a good time?” Ben asked after a pregnant pause. 

“Yeah, my friends are here, and there was some moderate dancing. You?” 

“I am now.” 

She gave him an absent smile. “Cool, cool,” she said, spotting Spike from the corner of her eyes. 

Her stomach did a tiny flip as he walked into the room. Ben kept talking, but she wasn’t listening to a word coming out of his mouth. She gave an obligatory fake laugh at one of his jokes. 

“So, I was going to ask you to dance—moderately—but first…” Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. 

“What’s that?” she asked, forcing her eyes away from Spike, who was talking to a girl wearing a dress that was way too tight. Who the hell is she? 

“Uh, yeah, it’s my phone number. I was going to try to subtly work it into the conversation, but it didn’t pan out, and I thought I should try to give it to you before you see me dance.” 

Buffy’s eyes grew wide. That was unexpected. Sure, there had been a small connection between them, but that was pre-Spike. “Thank you. Um, I, I just,” she stammered, struggling to find the right words to let him down gently. “I-I think you should know that I…” A frown creased her brow as she watched Spike whisper something to the girl. 

Knowing him, it was something dirty and sexy and-- 

Distracted, “I’m sorry, Ben, I’ve got to go,” Buffy said, walking past him. 

What the hell was he up to? They were supposed to be on a not-date together, and he was flirting with another girl! “Spike, who’s your friend?” she asked, walking up to them, her face tight. 

Before Spike could answer, the girl grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him in the air, tossing him effortlessly out of the front window. Buffy stood in shock as she tried to process what she had just witnessed. Somewhere in the house, the music stopped, and the entire party froze. 

“He is not my boyfriend,” April repeated to the now rapt crowd of party-goers. 

“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear,” Spike said, from outside the house. Rising, he brushed some broken glass and debris from his hair and clothing. 

Buffy stepped forward, approaching her. Excuse me. “Hi. Uh, maybe you and I could talk. You know, ‘cause, throwing Spike through a window... well, that was good,” she said, recalling how he had just flirted with the girl. “But, you know, generally speaking, that was my boyfriend you just tossed out the window, and I don’t--“ 

“Do you know my Boyfriend?” April asked, cutting her off. 

“I’m your boyfriend?” Spike climbed back through the window, his eyes on Buffy. 

“Maybe I heard that wrong. Spike’s your what now?” Xander asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

Ignoring everyone, Buffy said to April, “Okay. I think you need to take a second and stop looking for your boyfriend.” 

Before she could react, April grabbed Buffy by her arms and flung her across the room. Buffy landed on the floor several yards away and clutched her arm in pain. 

“I have to find him,” April said, walking over to Buffy. “If I hurt you just now, I’m sorry. And I hope that your boyfriend will take good care of you.” 

Buffy looked up at her and winced. _Weirdo,_ she thought as April walked away. 

“Right then.” Spike helped Buffy to her feet while Xander, Willow, Anya, and Tara rushed to her side. 

“Are you okay?” her friends asked in unison.

Buffy glanced at Spike. “I guess your _friend_ was in a hurry,” she said with a slight edge to her voice. 

“My… oh her?” He hitched his finger where April had stood. “Hey, I wasn’t the one trolling for my next ex,” he said indignantly. 

“My next ex… what are you--?”

“Right, like you weren’t laughin’ it up with the doctor back there?” 

“Who?” 

“Uh, just a little clarification here for the rest of us,” Xander said, stepping forward. “Mind if we go back to the part where you called Spike your boyfriend.” 

Stunned, Buffy stood mute for a moment. “Well, I,” she glanced at Spike. “We’ve been… He and I... we’re seeing each other.” 

Xander’s mouth fell open as he made a disgusted face. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke.” 

“Sorry, Harris, not a joke. Guess the thought of me puttin’ it to the—” Spike began. 

Buffy placed her hand on Spike’s chest and gave him a hard shove toward the door. “Excuse us,” she seethed. 

“What the—“ Spike straightened his jacket as Buffy gave him another push. 

“What was that?” Buffy’s lips formed a grim line across her face.

Spike flexed his jaw, then sighed. “I saw you with _ER_ back there, and I guess… I don’t know.” He shrugged. 

Buffy’s features softened. “You were jealous,” she said, lips twitching. 

Spike made a scoffing noise. “No. I just think you can do better is all.” 

Buffy moved forward. “I can. And you don’t need to flirt with girls in dresses that are way too tight to get my attention. We were just talking.” 

“Looked like you two were gettin’ chummy,” Spike muttered. 

“With Ben? He’s nice and all… but he’s not you.” 

Spike looked up, his eyes intense. “Say that again?” 

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want Ben. I want you,” she repeated. 

“Yeah?” 

Buffy nodded. “Yeah.” Spike leaned forward for a kiss. Dodging him, she said, “No more flirting with freakishly strong girls unless they're me, okay.” 

“Promise,” Spike said, before capturing her lips for a kiss. 

++++

They settled it; Spike was her boyfriend now. As much as Buffy hated to admit it, seeing him with April had made _her_ jealous. Before the party, she’d been afraid to label their relationship or her feelings. But seeing Spike with another girl had made it clear that she’d never been good at sharing. 

“They’re going to have questions.” Spike hedged as they returned to the others. 

“I know, but dress-girl is still out there, probably tossing her next victim out of a window. They’ll have to wait.” 

“She’s back!” Xander said once he spotted them. “And with Spike,” he added, turning to Willow. “You didn’t do that ‘thy will be done’ spell again, did you?” 

“Don’t look at me,” Willow said, indignantly. 

“It is possible that Buffy just enjoys dating vampires, Xander,” Anya interjected. “Some mortals find the mystique of vampires dangerously appealing. There are also added sexual benefits, such as superhuman stamina and--“ 

“And now I have a visual,” Xander said, cutting her off. 

“Thank you,” Spike said to Anya with a smirk. 

“So you and Spike, for-realsies,” Xander pressed.

Buffy gave him a mulish look. “Yup.” She was done explaining herself to him. He would either have to deal with it… or not. 

“Okay, dropping it now.”

“Well, if everyone’s all done discussing my love life,” Buffy said, annoyed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had it with super-strong little women who aren’t me.” She massaged her sore arm. 

Tara looked at the broken window. “Well, at least she didn’t do too much damage.”

“Are you kidding? Double-glazed windows ain’t cheap. And the jamb needs to be completely repaired... Oh dear god,” Xander said, horrified. “I’m the grownup who sees the world through my job. I’m like my uncle Dave, the plumber. I must be shunned.” 

“Okay,” Willow said, raising her brows. 

“So, what do you guys think she is?” Buffy asked, looking around. “I mean, this may sound nuts, but I kinda got the impression that she was a--“

“Robot,” Tara interjected. 

_Right, robot._ “Yeah, I was gonna say robot. What do you think she wants?" Buffy gave Spike a pointed look.

“Warren, whoever that is,” Spike said. “Probably the bloke who built her.” 

“It’s an unusual name. There’s hardly any except ... Warren Beatty and, you know, President Harding. It-it’s probably not either of them,” Willow mused out loud. 

“Wil, can you track this guy down by first name?” Buffy asked. 

“Given enough time. I can get a list of the Sunnydale students named Warren tonight, but ... then we’ll have to call them or go to their dorms, so we probably can’t start narrowing it down till tomorrow.”

“Okay. We’ll track down Warren tomorrow. I better get home, so I can rescue Giles from babysitting detail. He agreed to watch Dawn while my mom’s out on her date.” 

“Okay, I’ll call you first thing,” Willow said. 

++++

“Dear God, Buffy, there’s only so much I can take. We’re going to have to change the system. A fourteen-year-old’s too old to be babysat, and it’s not fair on her,” Giles said, greeting Buffy and Spike at the door. 

“Well, hello to you, too,” Buffy stepped inside. “What did she make you do?” 

Giles paused for a moment and stared at Spike. Gathering himself, he said, “Um, well, we listened to aggressively cheerful music sung by people chosen for their ability to dance ... then we ate cookie dough and talked about boys.”

Spike chuckled. “Ah, you got the boy-talk, too. Last time I was over, she even offered to do a fresh coat on my nails. I drew the line at glitter.” 

“Last time?” Giles looked between Buffy and Spike. 

“Spike and I are dating. Everyone knows,” Buffy deadpanned. 

“Oh, well, I--“ 

“It’s all right, Giles,” Buffy cut him off. “Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, my fun-time-Buffy-party-night involved watching a robot throw Spike through a window right before she tossed me across the room.” 

“A robot? Sounds interesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good word for it,” Spike said, rubbing his neck. 

“We’re gonna work on it in the morning. I mean, unless you wanna stay for a while--“ 

“No, no, I’m quite alright,” Giles rushed. “I’m sure you and, uh, Spike have this one covered,” he said, letting himself out. 

“Rupert.” Spike nodded at the Watcher. 

“I’ll check on Dawnie,” Buffy said, once Giles was gone. “It’s getting late. You don’t have to stay...” 

Spike shook his head. “I don’t mind. You go check on the bit. I’ll be down here waiting.” 

“Okay,” she said with a slight smile. 

++++

Dawn was upstairs sprawled across her bed, flipping through an old magazine and listening to the radio. Buffy knocked on the door and stepped inside. “So, I hear you and Giles had a great time tonight talking about boys over cookie dough.” 

Grinning, Dawn sat up. “Oh, yeah, he was totally into it.” She rolled her eyes. “Did you have fun at your party?” 

“It was okay,” Buffy said, sitting beside her. “Spike’s downstairs. We’re taking over for the rest of the night. You want to come down and watch a movie or something?” 

Dawn shook her head. “Not tonight. I know you guys probably want to kiss and stuff.” 

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “We do not!” 

“Sure, you don’t.” Dawn rolled her eyes again. 

Buffy tucked a lock of hair behind Dawn’s ear and smiled. “I told everyone about Spike and me.” 

“Yeah? How did that go?” 

“I got mostly shock and confusion. But they’ll get over it.” 

“This is great!” Dawn said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Now you won’t have to sneak around anymore, and the two of you can be a real couple and everything. I’m so happy for you.” Dawn hugged Buffy, squeezing her tightly. 

“You are?” 

“Yes, why not? You like him, he likes you—what’s not to like?” Dawn paused and studied Buffy for a moment. “Are you in love with him?” 

Buffy grew quiet and looked down at her hands. “I—it’s a little more complicated than that,” she answered after a lengthy pause. “I care about him. But I don’t know if it’s love.” 

“How do you know?” Dawn asked, her voice low.

Buffy thought about the question. She wasn’t sure how to answer it. For years, she thought she’d been in love with Angel. She felt consumed by it, like she couldn’t breathe if he wasn’t near. With Riley, it was different—she had loved him, but her feelings for him paled in comparison. Spike... Spike made her feel like she was alive for the first time in her life. He was dangerous, yet comforting all at once. She also knew that she could depend on him. And she enjoyed being around him because he made her feel like it was okay to relax and have fun. He’s also an amazing kisser, she thought, a slight smile tugging at her lips. _And when he looks at me... the whole world stops._

“I don’t know, but when it happens, you just know.” 

“Seems legit,” Dawn teased. 

“Whatever, brat,” Buffy said, bumping her shoulders. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Okay. Giles ordered Pizza. It’s in the fridge.” 

++++

By the time Buffy returned downstairs, Spike had made himself at home in the living room. She watched him from the door as he flipped through the channels, finally settling on the news. Crossing the room, she sat down beside him on the sofa. 

“Made you some tea,” he said, nodding at a cup on the coffee table. 

“Tea?” Buffy lifted a brow. “How English of you.” 

Spike shrugged. “Figured you’d need something to relax. How’s the arm? Saw you favorin’ it a bit.” 

Buffy massaged her shoulder. “Barely even a twinge now. How about you? That, um, crash through the window looked like it hurt.” 

“S’alright.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. Working up the nerve, Buffy said, “I was jealous tonight,” she admitted after a lengthy pause. “Seeing you with the robot--“ 

“Hey, she looked real.” 

A grin tugged at her lips. “Uh, huh, anyone could see the light reflecting off her plastic... _face_ ,” she teased him. “Anyway… I was wondering if we should—if you want to make this exclusive,” she asked shyly. 

“Are you asking me to go steady, Slayer?” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, pretending to glare. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” 

Spike shook his head. “And miss this opportunity. Not a chance,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “When I saw you with Ben... I thought you'd changed your mind about us,” Spike said. “I know I’m not--“ 

“Stop,” Buffy cut him off. “I don’t think either of us ever expected this to happen, but here we are,” she said. “Sometime between all the fighting and Glory... and everything else... you became a friend.” Buffy craned her neck to look at him. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: I love what we have. It took us a while to get here... and, yeah, I kind of fancy you a bit.” 

Grinning, the corner of Spike’s eyes crinkled. “‘Fancy?’ How English of _you_ ,” he said, mimicking her words. “I kinda fancy you, too, Slayer.” 

Happiness swelled inside her, and for the first time in weeks, Buffy felt some tension leave her body. “Good,” she said, planting her lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, as they languidly explored each other with gentle strokes and firm hands. 

“Buffy…” Spike said, dragging his mouth away. 

“Hm,” she mewed. 

“There’s something I should tell you, pet,” he said, between kisses. “It’s about the train--“ 

“Who wants to hear everything?” Joyce called out from the foyer, letting herself inside of the house. 

They sprang apart at the sound of Joyce’s voice, and Buffy quickly straightened the pillows on the couch while Spike pretended to watch television. “In here!” Buffy yelled. 

“Gosh, I’d forgotten how much fun dating can be,” Joyce said, entering the living room. 

Buffy smiled. She hadn’t seen her mother this happy over a first date in well... never. He must be some guy. “I don’t know. We didn’t see Prince Charming. I didn’t even see a goodnight kiss. Did you?” she asked Spike. 

Spike shook his head. “Not one,” he said with a grin. 

“In fact,” Buffy glanced at the wall clock. “It looks pretty tame to me.” 

“Sorry, Joyce, I have to agree.” 

“Well, I suppose by your standards, it could seem pretty…” Joyce looked between Buffy and Spike with a knowing smile. Pausing, she added, “Oh, dear.” 

“What?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“Spike, you may want to cover your ears for this. I may have left my bra in his car,” Joyce said to Buffy, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. 

Horrified, Buffy’s eyes flew to her mother’s chest, then quickly back to Joyce’s face. She was not about to check if her mother was wearing a bra. 

“Way to go, Joyce!” 

Buffy elbowed Spike in the side. “Mother!” 

“Right, right,” Spike amended. “Where is the scoundrel? Should I have a little chat--“ 

“I’m joking,” Joyce assured them, still grinning. 

“Good god, that’s horrible. Don’t do that.” Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. 

“I left it in the restaurant.”

Buffy placed her hands over her ears, shaking the image of her mother losing her bra out of her head. “No more, no more, no more!” 

“On the desert cart,” Joyce teased, heading out of the living room and up the stairs. 

“We can’t hear you!” Buffy said as Spike pulled her back into his arms. “She’s kidding, right?” 

"Probably not," he said, returning her grin.


	16. Chapter 16

Spike sprinted around the corner, clutching his blanket tightly around his head as he ran toward the Magic Box with news for Buffy and her friends. The robot was on the move and had been seen knocking on doors in residential neighborhoods, looking for that Warren guy. What a ponce, Spike thought. While _C-3PO_ was wreaking havoc around town, tossing people out windows, Warren or whatever was out there living it up. _Unless he’s dead_. Robot girl was freakishly strong. What if Warren pissed her off, and she killed him? _Oh, well, serves him right for building that thing._

Spike dashed through the door, accidentally bumping shoulders with a customer. “Coming through! Coming through!” he shouted as the blanket caught on fire. Spike threw it down and stomped out the flames while the others watched in silence. 

“Talk about dramatic entrances,” Xander said from his position at the table. 

Ignoring him, Spike said, “Got some news about our little robot girl.” 

“And we are certain that she is a robot?” Giles said, turning to Willow. 

“Well, she practically had 'Genuine Molded Plastic' stamped on her ass," Tara chimed in, earning her a look from Willow and Giles. “Just... tryin’ a little spicy talk,” she added. 

“What did you find out?” Buffy asked Spike. 

“A few people have seen her wandering around town lookin’ for that Warren guy. So far, she hasn’t hurt anyone else.” 

“Well, that’s good.” Buffy sighed. 

“And I’ve got nothing,” Willow added. “The only Warren I found moved out of the country a year ago. I’m searching nearby schools.” 

“Well, whoever he is, he knows his stuff. That girl, well…” Xander said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “That was a nice looking girl.” 

Spike gave him a dubious look. After being thrown out the window, he was more interested in pulling the plug on that thing before it caused any more damage—particularly to him. 

“It’s okay for him to say that, ’cause I know that he really loves me only,” Anya said, taking Xander’s hand.

“Hey! I think I found him. A Warren Mears. He went to Sunnydale High with us for a semester, and then he went to the tech college over in Dutton. I’ve got a local address where his folks still live,” Willow blurted, grabbing a notepad and pen. 

“I can go talk to him,” Buffy said, crossing the room to lean on the display counter. “Spike?” Buffy looked at him. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need, pet.” He moved beside her. 

“No, no, no, no, no, wait, we don’t know what you’re walking into,” Giles said, rising to his feet. “Uh, we have no idea what his motive is for building this thing.” He joined them at the counter just as a few customers walked into the shop. 

Smirking, Spike said, “It’s a shagbot, Rupert.” 

“What guy doesn’t think about that?” Xander added. Wistfully, “Beautiful girl with ... no other thought but to please you ... willing to do anything…” 

Spike frowned. What kind of twit would waste his time on a robot, when he could have flesh and blood, and soft, delicate skin? Spike glanced over at Buffy. He’d never! His mind conjured up the image of April again.

Well... 

“Why would he do that when he could have a real person?” Anya asked, echoing his thoughts.

“Maybe he couldn’t find a real person,” Willow empathized. “People get lonely, and maybe having someone around, even someone you made up ... maybe it’s easier.”

“Oh, come on. The guy’s just a big wedge of sleaze, don’t make excuses for him!” Buffy made a disgusted face. 

Nope. Never would do that.

“Giles! You forgot the bone,” Anya shouted, pointing at the counter. “Don’t forget to upsell!” 

“What? Oh, yes—“ Giles frowned and handed the customer their purchase. 

Buffy picked up the bone and frowned at it. “You’ve been trying to get rid of this thing all week. What does it do?” 

As if on cue, the bone sang, _The love you feel, you try to fight. But the one whom you adore walks with you in the night. His name is Sp--_

Buffy let go of the bone, and it clattered to the surface of the counter with a loud clack. Spike gawked at her for a moment in disbelief. Love? Was he hearing things? He looked around the room, noting the shock on everyone’s face. 

Giles cleared his throat, speaking first. “It’s called _Der singende Knochen._ Roughly translated from German, it means ‘the singing bone.’”

“Yes, and everyone thinks it’s a stupid little fairytale because of those two brothers,” Anya began. “But, I knew the dwarf who cursed it.” 

“Well, it, it—” Buffy stammered. 

“It can only sing the truth,” Anya added. 

“Yeah, if the truth was, you know... funny words that don’t make any sense,” Xander said, his face grim. 

Spike looked at Buffy for a moment, suddenly very aware of his entire body. He took a step forward, just as she backed away. 

“Xander…” Willow scolded. 

“I have to—” Buffy pointed to the back of the shop. 

Spike waited for a beat before following her to the backroom. She was standing by one of the punching bags with her head bent. Spike watched her from the door, his throat thick with emotion. Although Anya had said the bone only spoke the truth, the skeptic in him couldn’t allow himself to believe it. He hadn’t spoken of love since the night at the hospital, afraid that any more declarations would scare Buffy off. Their relationship was still too new, too fragile for him to be pouring out his heart. Most of the time, Spike felt as if he was walking on egg-shells around her, or like any moment someone would pop out and tell him this was all some kind of joke. 

“Slayer…” he took a tentative step into the room. 

“Sorry,” Buffy said, looking up. “It threw me off guard.” 

“S’okay, love. Don’t know how much stock I’d put into a bone cursed by a dwarf. Dodgy bastards are always up to somethin.’” 

Buffy’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah... those darn dwarfs.” 

Spike took her hand in his. “S’ no rush, pet. I love you. You know it... but I’m not expectin’ you to--“ 

“It’s not that.” Buffy sighed. “We should talk, but not here—not now. There’s April and Warren…”

She was right. As much as he yearned to hear her say she loved him back, Spike knew better than to rush her. “Yeah... there was something I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about,” he said, thinking about Dru. “But we can discuss it later.” 

“All right,” Buffy agreed, squeezing his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Smiling, Spike touched her cheek. “We better head on back before Harris charges in with the calvary.” 

++++

They waited until after sundown to go look for Warren. Buffy wasn’t sure what to expect when they found him. He wasn’t much older than her, and he was already creating robots that were nearly indistinguishable from humans. Well, not that hard to distinguish. April had a certain manufactured look about her, but not in an I-made-this-in-my-parents-basement kind of way. Buffy looked down at the address Willow had scribbled down and frowned. They were smack-dab in suburbia. Not exactly what she had in mind for a robot building evil genius to live. But then again, this was the Hellmouth—where teenagers built a human out of spare body parts. 

“I think this is it,” she said, squinting up at the Mears home. “It looks so…” 

“Cleaver,” Spike finished for her. 

“I was gonna say Stepford, but yeah, that works, too.” 

“You know what you’re gonna say to the bloke?” Spike asked. 

Buffy hadn’t thought about that either. Warren Mears wasn’t a monster, he was a human. A very irresponsible, douchy, human, but a human nonetheless. She couldn’t go in gun-a-blazing. She needed him to fix this. “Um, there’s a rough outline,” Buffy said as she rang the doorbell. 

A few seconds later, the door swung open, and a young man she didn’t recognize stood at the threshold with a girl about her age. “I need to talk to you,” Buffy said, addressing the man. 

“Warren?” The girl frowned. “Who is she?” 

Ignoring her, Warren said, “Is this about _her_?” His eyes darted to the side. 

“Yes,” Buffy replied. 

“Her who? Warren, something’s going on here. Strange girls… what’s going on?” The girl spoke again. 

Spike stepped forward. “Your beau here thinks he’s a real Bicentennial Man, that’s what.” 

“Actually, I’m more like Dr. Calvin ’cause the Bicentennial Man is the creation—“ Warren paused, looking between everyone. “Never mind. Not important. Katrina, wait in the kitchen.” 

“And I’m not important? Katrina snapped. “Warren, just tell these people to go away.” 

“I can’t…” 

“You’re keeping secrets from me. Other girls, and who knows what else?” 

“Trina, just shut up and go to the kitchen.”

Buffy’s head jerked back, stunned by the harsh way Warren spoke to his girlfriend. _No wonder he had to make one_ , she thought, looking over at Spike, who was staring at him with a scowl on his face. 

“Listen, mate--“ 

“That’s it. Forget it, Warren. I’m gone,” Katrina said, pushing past Buffy and Spike. 

Buffy watched Warren call after her, but Katrina kept walking without a backward glance. Shrugging, Buffy stepped inside and introduced herself. “My name is Buffy Summers. We were at Sunnydale High together. This is Spike,” She added. “Do you know who I am?” 

In a defeated tone, Warren answered, “Yeah. I know who you are.” 

++++

“So, when you couldn’t find anyone to get your rocks off with, you made yourself a toy,” Spike summarized after Warren finished telling them about April. 

Cringing, Buffy added, “And you left her in your dorm room…” 

“I didn’t think this would happen,” Warren explained. “Her batteries were supposed to die. I don’t know why they haven’t given out yet,” he muttered with a frown. 

_Because you’re an idiot who thinks much too highly of yourself and your intellect._ Buffy bit her tongue before telling Warren what she really thought about him and his _Weird Science_ experiment. “Is she dangerous?” Buffy asked, instead. 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so... she’s only programmed to be in love.” 

Buffy looked at Spike and blanched. “Then, she’s dangerous,” Buffy said, thinking of all the ways artificial love had gone wrong in the past. She’d spent a few hours as a rat once because of it. 

“All right, we’ve got a deranged robot on the loose here. How do we find her? Spike asked. 

“Well, she’s looking for me. So, I’m guessing she’s probably close.” 

Buffy rose to her feet. “Let’s split up,” She said to Spike. “I’ll keep checking the neighborhood.”

“And I saw a park nearby; I’ll look there,” Spike added. “You, robot boy,” Spike said to Warren. “You’re with me.” 

“Spike, are you sure?” Buffy asked, concerned. April had already thrown him through a window once. Maybe the two of them searching together wasn’t the best idea. 

“I’ll be all right, pet,” Spike said, touching her cheek. 

“You two are together?” Warren asked, looking between them. “I thought you were seeing that older guy. The one with the hair and the forehead.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Just go find her,” she said, between her teeth. 

++++

Spike followed Warren down the street to the playground about a block away from his house and listened to him prattle on about his invention. They stopped intermittently to call out April’s name, hoping she’d hear them, cutting their search short. Spike walked behind Warren, scowling at the back of his head. _What kind of git would create a woman to essentially be a sex slave only to abandon her like a forgotten toy in his dorm room?_ There was a reason Spike had never liked those brainy types. They were always too smart for their own good—and others. He was still smarting over being thrown out of a window in front of a house full of people. If his reputation wasn’t already down the drain, that little incident hadn’t helped. 

“She has voice recognition,” Warren explained, stopping to yell April’s name again. “I made it so that if she heard me and she didn’t answer, it causes this kind of feedback.” 

Spike’s lip curled in disgust. “So, if she doesn’t answer you, it hurts her?” Spike shook his head. “You’re a creepy little dweeb, aren’t you?” he said, walking ahead of him. “April!” Spike called out, suddenly empathizing with the robot. 

“April!” Warren echoed him. 

Spike’s eyes widened as he spotted the bot a few feet away, holding Katrina by her neck. “What the--“ 

“Warren!” April said, dropping Katrina to the ground like she was nothing. “Where have you been? I couldn’t find you, and this girl kept lying to me. She said you were her boyfriend. But you’re not. You’re mine. I tried to tell her... then she went to sleep.” 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered. 

“April, what did you do to her?” Warren rushed forward, dropping to his knees so he could examine Katrina. 

“Please don’t be angry, Warren. I’m trying very hard to make you happy.”

Warren looked at Spike with evident confusion. “Well, say something to her for Christ’s sake?” Spike yelled, waving his arm in April’s direction. 

“Is she broken?” April asked, looking down at Katrina. 

“She’s still alive,” Spike assured them. “I can hear her heart beating. Knocked out is all.” 

“Warren, honey, Did I do something wrong? I waited and waited for so long for you. I made five sweaters, and I recorded all your favorite television shows. But you never came back.” 

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the robot, then back at Warren. This was insane, and he had seen some crazy shit in his life—most of it involving Dru. Spike studied the robot for a moment. He understood that kind of devotion. He’d been there himself with Drusilla. Of course, he wasn’t some hard-wired hunk of plastic, but he knew what it was like to experience that kind of rejection. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never been able to satisfy Dru’s wayward eyes. 

“That’s great, you could go back and get them. So you could wait there, and-“ 

“Warren!” Spike bellowed. 

“April look,” Warren’s eyes darted around nervously. “I know I made you to love me. But, but I don’t—the truth is, I don’t love you. I can’t love you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t love you.” 

Growling, April advanced toward Warren with murder in her eyes. 

“You made her growl?” Spike asked, stepping between him and the bot. 

“Well…” Warren shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. 

April grabbed Spike by the neck and tried tossing him aside again. Bracing himself, Spike prepared to go hurling through the air, but she only threw him a few feet to the side. He grabbed April’s arm and twisted it behind her back. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, feeling bad for manhandling the robot. 

Growling again, April tilted her head back, connecting her skull with Spike’s nose. “She stole my man. I’m going to... I’m going to…” She grabbed Spike again, but this time he didn’t feel any pain. “I can’t... I can’t crush... so tired,” she said, her speech slowing. 

Somewhere behind them, Spike heard Warren and Katrina squabbling, but his focus was on April. 

“Warren? Where are you? What’s happening to me?” April cried out over the sound of her machinery powering down. 

“Here, dove, I’ve got you,” Spike said, tenderly walking April to a swing set, and helping her sit down. 

“Warren likes when I beg,” April said as Spike positioned her on the swing. “But he hates crying. Crying is blackmail. Good girlfriends don’t cry. I was a good girlfriend.” 

Spike shook his head. Sadly, “Yeah, I’m sure you were.” 

April moved her eyes so she could look at him. “I know you, you’re the man from the party. You said nasty things to me when I am not your girlfriend.” 

“I know,” Spike said, chagrined. 

“Why did you say those things to me?” 

Spike studied April for a moment and sighed. “Because I was trying to make my girlfriend jealous,” he admitted. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m a bloody ponce, that’s why,” he said, looking at her. “And I’m very sorry I said those things to you.” 

“Oh,” April replied. “I hope your girlfriend is a good girlfriend.” 

Spike thought of Buffy and wondered where she was. “She is. I love her very much,” he whispered. 

“That’s nice. It’s dark now. I hope she can find you in the dark. Warren always finds me, even when it is dark. Maybe this is a girlfriend test, and if I wait patiently this time, he’ll come back. He’s going to take me home, and things will be right again. I’m a good girlfriend, aren’t I?” 

Spike pressed his lips into a thin line. “What Warren did—it’s not right,” he explained to her, then stopped. He doubted the robot would understand. “You are a good girlfriend, April. And I’m sure that Warren is sorry for leaving you like this,” Spike lied. “He told me... he told me to tell you how proud of you he is. And how impressed with how much you loved him. He didn’t mean to hurt you, pet.” 

“Warren is my boyfriend,” April repeated. “He’ll make things right again.” 

“Yeah,” Spike sighed. 

“When things are sad ... you just have to be patient.” Her speech grew slower with each syllable, deepening her voice. “Because ... because every ... cloud has a silver lining. And ... when life ... gives you lemons ... make ... lemonade.”

“Clouds and lemonade?” Spike repeated with a wry smile. 

“Yes. And... and… things are... always... darkest... before…” April’s face froze mid-sentence as she powered down. 

Spike watched April for a few moments, expecting her to talk again, but she didn’t move. Sighing, he stood over the bot before lifting her in his arms, cradling her body against his. As he made his way back to his car, he hoped no one would think he was trying to take advantage of the girl. How would he explain that she was a robot some geek built in his mother’s basement? 

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere safe.” 

++++

After dropping Buffy off to meet Xander, Spike took April to the only place where he knew she’d be taken care of—The Magic Shop. 

“Oh, my... oh dear,” Giles said, rubbing the lens of his glasses vigorously. “Is that, the, uh, robot?” 

“Yeah. Batteries went out about an hour ago. Wasn’t sure where to take her and dumping her... didn’t seem right,” Spike said, setting April down on a chair. 

“Yes, well.” Giles bent down to examine her, lightly poking her cheek with his finger. “She’s quite remarkable. Very realistic. And a teenager made this?” 

“Apparently,” Spike said, frowning at the defunct robot. “A real sorry sod, that one.” 

“I could only imagine…” Giles said, studying her. “Let’s get her down in storage, and I’ll have Willow look at her. She could be useful.” 

Relieved, Spike nodded and helped the Watcher stand April to her feet. He hated the thought of turning her into scrap metal. _Better off collecting dust in some old man’s shop, then melted down for spare parts_ , Spike thought once they had her stored away. 

“Well, I best be…” He pointed toward the door. 

“Yes, thank you for bringing that, that, April to the store,” Giles said. 

Nodding, Spike headed out the shop.

“Spike,” Giles called out. 

Spike turned around. He had expected some kind of lecture from Rupert, admonishing him for daring to love his Slayer. Steeling himself, he faced Buffy’s Watcher. “Yeah?” 

“About Buffy,” Giles began. “I usually try not to meddle in her love life, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say something to you.”

Spike squared his shoulder and prepared himself for the onslaught of judgment and insults. Although Buffy had assured him that Rupert had accepted their relationship, Spike had a niggling feeling that her optimism was misplaced. He was the vampire who had once tried to kill the man. “Figured,” Spike muttered. 

“I know you love Buffy. That much is clear. And as much as I’d like to give my opinion on the matter, I’ll refrain. Buffy has her own mind and heart. They are both set on you. I’m not entirely clear on what your intentions are with her, but I... I care for her as if she were my daughter. I’m asking you to guard her heart and try not to... don’t hurt her,” Giles finished with his chin held high. 

Speechless, Spike studied Giles for a moment, trying to piece together a proper response. There was no malice in his words, just genuine concern for the woman he regarded as a daughter. Spike was reasonably certain that this admission wasn’t anything Rupert had ever shared with anyone... not even Buffy. Glancing around the shop, Spike spotted Anya’s bone sitting discarded on the display case. Without a word, he stalked over to the artifact and grabbed it off the counter. As soon as his fingers closed around it, the bone sang. 

_His past was tragic, brutal, and bloody. But his heart did change. It belongs to Buffy._

Spike laid the bone gently on the glass and looked at Giles, his blue eyes piercing. “I love her,” Spike croaked. 

“I know.” 

++++

Buffy watched as Xander did that shim thing with the window Spike had crashed through the night before. While he was off taking care of April, she wanted to set some things straight with Xander. 

“Robots are the craziest people,” Xander mused. 

“No, people are the craziest people. April wasn’t crazy... she was a robot,” Buffy said. “Spike found her. Warren had programmed her to—“ she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Xander stopped hammering and looked at Buffy. “So, this thing with Spike... it’s real?” 

Buffy looked at her friend for a moment and nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure where it’s going, but it’s real.” 

“The bone--“ 

“I don’t know,” Buffy stopped him from finishing. She still wasn’t ready to face the truth yet. She liked how things were going with Spike and didn’t want to complicate it. Her life was complicated enough as it is. “I care about him,” Buffy admitted, instead. “I like him, and I like what we have. So, I need you to accept that... or…” 

Xander looked away. “You realize this is Spike we’re talking about here,” he retorted. 

“I know who we’re talking about,” Buffy replied. “He’s changed, Xander.”

“Yeah, but until when?” he said, voicing an old fear of hers. “Are you saying that you trust him with your life... with Dawn’s? What if he decides that team Glory is the side to be on?” 

“He won’t.” Her voice was firm. “He loves me. He won’t hurt me.” 

Shaking his head, Xander said, “Well, for all of our sakes, I hope not. But you listen to me if he does anything that even remotely puts Anya in danger… I’ll stake him myself.” 

“He won’t,” Buffy repeated. 

Xander made a scoffing noise. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Buff.” 

“And even if I don’t, I don’t need your approval. I’m telling you this because I’m with Spike now. He’s part of my life, and I hope that you can respect that,” she said before leaving him to his work. 

++++

Spike hated brooding. It reminded him of Angel, and he hated thinking about Angel for a multitude of reasons, Buffy notwithstanding. But he brooded anyway. Spending time with April had put him in a grim mood, and he was thoroughly convinced that men like Warren should be put down before they caused any more trouble. _If I didn’t have this chip in my head_... Spike closed his eyes, pushing the thought away. The demon raged for him to put the little geek out of his misery, but Spike knew he couldn’t kill someone just because they did something stupid or potentially dangerous. There were laws to handle things like this. Although, he wasn’t sure if Warren had broken any laws. But he was convinced that Warren was trouble. He hoped the pillock stayed out of it and for that girlfriend of his to run as fast as she could. Although April was a bot, he had felt for her—it. 

“Stupid,” Spike muttered, kicking a pebble across the room. He didn’t want to think about April anymore. 

Shaking his head, he recalled his conversation with Giles. He sighed, taking comfort knowing that Buffy’s Watcher wouldn’t interfere with or try to influence their relationship. He didn’t care much about what her friends thought, but he was well aware of the heavy influence they had over her. Deep down, Spike was terrified that no matter what he did to prove that he was right for her, she would eventually change her mind.

“Spike…” Buffy said from the door, letting herself in. 

He looked up, and his chest tightened. “Hey,” he greeted her as she crossed the room. “Everything all squared away with Harris?” 

Buffy pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Yeah. I swung by the house. Dawn is having a sleepover with her friend from school, and mom went to bed early.” 

“Is she all right?” 

“Yeah, she said she was getting a slight headache.” 

Nodding, he took her hand in his and led her to the stone slab. “It was good seeing her happy.”

“I know.” Buffy smiled at him. “I’ve been so worried about her... but I think everything will be okay.” 

“You’re mum’s a strong lady,” Sike added. 

“I’ve been thinking…” Buffy said. “These past few weeks... things have been so crazy. But I’m happy again. It’s been so long, I almost forgot what that was like.” Buffy took his hand in hers. “And you’re part of that reason.” 

Spike looked down at their joined hands and swallowed hard. Terrified, he said, “There’s something I need to tell you, Slayer.” Buffy looked at him with wide, unflinching eyes. “I know what happened to the people on the train. We were right about the vamp nest... it wasn’t them. It was Dru.” 

“Drusilla was here?” Buffy’s voice quivered. 

“Yeah. She came back to town lookin’ to recruit me in bringing Angelus back. I refused and sent her on her way. Buffy, I’m--“

“She’s alive?” 

Spike nodded. A thick silence settled between them. Buffy slid off the tomb and turned her back to him. “I was going to tell you…” Spike said. “But I wasn’t sure how’d you take it.” 

Buffy turned around to face him. Time seemed to drag as he waited for her to speak again. 

“I understand why you let her go,” she said after a lengthy pause. “I’m not mad at you, Spike.” 

He looked up, “You’re not?” 

She shook her head. “No. I get it... I don’t like it, but I get it. Thank you for being honest. That means a lot to me.” Buffy closed the gap between them, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “You mean a lot to me,” she added, kissing him again.

Relief spread over him, warming his bones and igniting his desire for her. Need surged through him as he angled his mouth over hers, inviting Buffy closer. Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and thrilled when she didn’t hesitate to step into his embrace. He dipped his head, deepened the kiss, and went in for a more thorough exploration of her mouth, drinking in her sweetness. 

“Slayer…” he breathed, steadying himself. 

Buffy inched back and stared at him with wide green eyes. She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Spike tried not to shiver when she touched him. She slid her hands down his chest, sending sparks of heat throughout his body. A slight smile curved her lips as she tugged her blouse over her head, letting it fall at her feet. Spike’s stomach twisted at the sight of her. His hands knew her well after hours of memorizing the shape and feel of her. He trailed a finger down her throat, over her collarbone, moving lower until he reached the gentle swell of her breasts. 

Slow, slow, he thought even as his body urged him on. 

Buffy pulled in a sharp breath and gave him a shaky smile. “I actually came here to talk.” 

Spike returned her smile, his eyes sweeping over her. “We can talk…” his words teased her. "If you want to," he added, even as his fingers flirted with the sensitive bud beneath her bra’s delicate lace. 

His mouth covered hers before she could respond. Buffy slid her arms around his neck as he cupped her left breast. Her nipple peeked through the lacey material, begging for his attention. Spike skated his thumb over the stiff bud, and a soft sound escaped her throat. He reached for the front clasp of her bra and thanked the deity responsible for front hooks as her breasts spilled into his eager palms. His hands shaped and reshaped her as his tongue stroked hers. 

Spike pulled her close, and she threaded her fingers in his hair. Groaning, he used his knee to pry her legs apart, cradling himself between her thighs. Hard met soft as he thrust his hips forward. God, he wanted to drive himself inside of her. He imagined spreading her legs wide as he thrust deep within her. Arousal pulsed through him at the image his mind had conjured up. His chest rumbled as Buffy slid her hands over his abs and flirted with his waistband. She undid the button first before pushing the zipper down over the thickness of his erection. A soft hiss escaped his lips as her fingers closed around him, tugging gently, freeing him. 

Spike closed his eyes before capturing her lips again, working his mouth into a mating rhythm with hers. Pausing, he swept her into his arms and dropped down into the lower level of his crypt. Spike laid her on the bed and quickly disrobed before joining her. She reached for him, and he captured her lips for a brief kiss, trailing his mouth over her skin until he reached her breast. He swirled his tongue over the tight bud before sucking hard. Buffy cried out, her back arching off the bed. 

Spike skimmed his hand over her hips, and with a couple of tugs, her jeans joined his at the foot of the bed. Naked, his eyes took her in. God, she was beautiful... and she was his. Another surge of desire gripped him and pulsed between his legs. Spike watched her face as he hooked his arms beneath each of her knees and spread her legs. _Bloody—_ he bit his lip at the sight of her. 

Unable to resist, he lowered himself between her thighs. His erection throbbed, demanding that he take instead of give. Beneath him, Buffy trembled in anticipation as he dipped his head, tasting her for the first time. He worked his tongue against the tender bud, determined to drive her wild. Her body bowed as she lifted her hips off the bed to meet his eager mouth. Spike slid his fingers into her moist flesh and squeezed his eyes shut as she tightened around him. 

“Spike--!” she cried out, undoing him. 

He positioned himself between her legs, nudging them apart while leaning down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, devouring her. Buffy surged up to meet him, nipping at his lips. He tried to ease in slowly, but she opened her legs wide, sliding her hands down his back, pressing him closer. In one rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. A groan tore from his lips as her moist heat surrounded him. 

“Damn, you feel good, Slayer,” Spike grated. She was better than anything he had ever imagined. Wanting to prolong the sensation, he remained motionless for a moment as her body curved around him. 

Buffy rolled her hips, and Spike clenched his jaw at the intensity of the desire beating through him. He thrust forward, hips bucking as she met him, moving her body in tandem with his. Spike kissed her again as their bodies tangled together. He pushed deeper, cataloging which movements brought her the most pleasure and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. 

“Harder,” Buffy panted, gripping him. “Spike, please--“ 

That _please_ nearly sent him over the edge as she slammed her hips up to meet him. If she kept that up—Their eyes locked as he brought them over the edge and back again. Overcome with passion, Spike watched her face as she cried out his name. He went deep, driving harder. Mustering up the will, he gave one last thrust and buried his face in her throat as her body gently milked him of everything he had left. 

A few moments later, Spike collapsed beside her and closed his eyes. Any moment he expected to wake up and find that he had imagined the entire thing. He had to be dreaming. Sex had never been this good. 

“That was some talk,” Buffy said, sleepily. 

Chuckling, Spike turned his head to look at her. “We could continue the conversation a little later.” 

Buffy propped herself on her elbows and looked at him. “I wouldn’t mind another go.” 

Spike kissed her shoulder. “You were incredible.” 

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Buffy leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his lips. 

He pulled her into his arms, enjoying the quiet intimacy between them as he held her. Buffy rested her cheek against his chest and sighed. 

“I should probably go…” 

Spike looked down at her. “Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. 

Belabored, Buffy added, “but then I’d have to get up and put on clothes. It’ll turn into an entire thing. And I don’t wanna.” 

“Then stay.” Spike tightened his arms around her. “Just a little longer.” 

“Okay… but just for a little bit,” Buffy agreed, cuddling against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually update this story on Elysian Fields first @https://dark-solace.org/elysian/viewstory.php?sid=6261 So I sometimes don't always get over here. You can read the story over there as well. :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm really not great about updating here on this site. I'll be posting chapters 17-19. I post more often and keep up with updating on Elysian Fields. If you are a spuffy fan, check out the site. There are many wonderful stories and authors hosted there. https://dark-solace.org/elysian/viewstory.php?sid=6261

Where are my underwear? Buffy dropped to her knees and ducked her head underneath Spike’s bed. She hadn’t intended to stay the night... or through to the early afternoon. Now she was searching for her clothes in the dim lighting of his crypt. Buffy felt around in the darkness until she found the scant lace next to her jeans. 

“You sure you have to go?” Spike asked, lounging on top of the tangled sheets. 

Buffy slid into her jeans, resisting the urge to climb back into bed with him. She took in his mussed hair and naked frame, want gnawing at her stomach as she watched him watch her. 

“Positive. I didn’t come home last night. I don’t want my mom to worry. Besides, you've kept me here long enough.” Buffy flashed him a teasing smile, recalling the many times they had made love. Although Buffy wouldn’t exactly label some of the things they had done to each other so poetically. 

Last night, he had taught her things she didn’t think were possible; she had never experienced anything so... kinetic in her life. Buffy glanced at Spike and bit back a sigh. He had been an ardent lover, almost insatiable. And the best part was laying in his arms throughout the night. 

“All right,” Spike agreed, easily. “But don’t stay away too long,” he said, wrapping his arms loosely around her shoulders. 

“I won’t,” she promised. “Tonight?” 

“I’ll keep it open,” he said with a grin. 

++++

Buffy took the short way home, cutting through the back of the cemetery and hopping the gate. She felt light, like someone had lifted a weight from her shoulders. Glory was still out there, but she didn’t feel terrified anymore. She had her friends and Spike to help her face the hell-god. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t face together. And now, with Spike at her side, she felt stronger, lifted by his love.

Buffy fished out her keys and tried to think of a good excuse for not coming home last night. 

“Hey, mom,” Buffy called from the foyer. Spotting some flowers on the table, she paused and read the card.

“‘Thank you for a lovely evening. See you soon? Brian.” 

Buffy smiled, happy that her mother seemed to have found a good guy. “Still a couple of guys getting it right,” she said to herself. “Hey, flower gettin’ lady, want me to get Dawn from school?” Buffy called up the stairs.

The house was so quiet, too quiet. Buffy turned her head and caught something from the corner of her eyes. “Mom?” Buffy slowly walked to the living room, dread creeping in her chest. 

“What are you doing?” Her voice quivered as Joyce lay motionless on the sofa. Buffy moved closer. “Mom?” Quieter. “Mommy?” 

++++

Spike waited all day for her to come back. Around sundown, he grew restless and began pacing around his crypt. He couldn’t stop thinking about her or last night. He slumped down in his armchair and began drumming his fingers against his thigh. He didn’t want to seem overbearing, but he wanted to see her again, be near her. Spike had never felt more alive than when he was with her. She had bewitched him, and he was under her spell. 

Blimey. He was turning into a real lovesick fool. Spike closed his eyes and envisioned Buffy smiling at him as she lay in his arms. Making love to her had been one of the most spiritual experiences of his life. And while he had held her in his arms, he had felt complete. Spike glanced at the windows. The sun was almost down; if he was careful, he could make it from his crypt to the Summers’ residence with minimal exposure. Grabbing his blanket, he headed for the door. 

Something felt off the moment he stepped in front of the house. Spike took a tentative step forward and noticed someone had left the door open. “Buffy?” Spike called, stepping over the threshold. “Joyce…” Spike looked around. An eerie feeling crept over him, chilling his bones. “Bit—Dawn?” His voice cracked on her name. 

Spike searched the house, calling their names as he moved through the foyer, living room, and kitchen. It was like they had disappeared or… been taken. Glory. The name echoed in every corner of his mind. Spike closed his eyes and shook his head. No, not Glory. The house was much too orderly, untouched. If Glory had been in the house, Buffy would have put up a fight. There was no way she would have allowed the hell-god to take Dawn without doing some damage. Spike looked around the room and envisioned the furniture broken and overturned. 

Glory hadn’t been there. This was something else. 

Spike closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply. He smelled them, but not Glory. There were others, two men. Their cologne lingered in the air. Spike stepped out onto the porch and continued to follow the trail onto the street where it disappeared. 

“Are you looking for your lady?” 

Spike squinted into the dim light. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, and the street lights flickered on. 

“Yeah,” he replied to the man next door. “You’ve seen them?” 

“Not for a few hours,” the man shuffled forward. “The older one, Joyce, they rushed her out of here in an ambulance. I hope she’s all right. She’s a real nice lady and a good neighbor. Hardly had any trouble out of her, ‘cept for that one time with the party.”

“Was she hurt?” Spike asked, anxious for the man to get to the point. 

“As far as I can tell, no.” 

“Thanks, mate,” Spike said, taking off toward the hospital. 

++++

She saved her hundreds of times. 

Once on the living room floor, the other time in the ambulance, and sometimes she even stopped it before it happened. Each time she saved her mother because she had been there. But I wasn’t there. Buffy shook violently as a shiver ran up her spine. The moment she closed her eyes, she saw her mother lying lifeless on the sofa, her sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. She never did her follow up, Buffy thought, hugging herself. I should have made her reschedule her follow up. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. I should have... I should have… Why didn’t I? 

“Buffy?” 

She turned at the sound of her name and walked into Xander’s arms. “Xander,” Buffy said, resting her cheek on his shoulder. 

“Is there anything we can do?” he croaked. 

Buffy stepped back and pressed her lips into a thin smile as everyone exchanged hugs. “It was an aneurysm,” Buffy replied. “The doctor said it happened fast; there was nothing…” she choked. “There was nothing I could have done.” 

She recalled the sound of bones cracking beneath her hands. I should have been there. 

“The doctor said it happened quickly,” Giles finished, coming up behind her. “She didn’t feel any pain.” 

Doctors lie all the time to make us feel better. 

“That’s good, right?” Anya perked up. 

Buffy frowned, her mind blank. 

“Uh, why don’t we sit down?” Willow said, taking Buffy’s hand. “Dawnie, do you wanna sit?” 

Dawn shook her head, holding herself protectively. 

“We won’t be here long,” Buffy told her sister because she didn’t know what else to say.

“We’re not going to leave her here, are we?” Dawn’s voice cracked. 

Buffy looked down at her empty palms. They weren’t leaving their mother at the hospital. She was gone. They were leaving the—. Buffy’s stomach twisted into knots as she stared at the lines in her hands. Which one was the lifeline? Tara had tried to show them once. She and Willow had come over for a girl’s night, and they had read tea leaves and told fortunes while Joyce served snacks. 

“What do you see in my future?” Joyce asked, kneeling in front of the coffee table. 

Tara took her hand and traced a finger over Joyce’s palm. “I see a full and happy life.” 

Fighting back the tears, Buffy looked at Dawn. “Dawnie…” 

“Forget it. I have to pee,” she said, turning away from them. 

Buffy watched Dawn walk down the hallway, wishing she knew what to say to comfort her. She was just a kid who had lost one of the few real things in her life. Buffy closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Spike was there, standing a few feet away. Things had moved so quickly, she’d forgotten to get a message to him. The moment she discovered Joyce on the sofa, reality had shifted, and she had forgotten about everything else. 

Buffy stared at him for a moment. He was close, but it felt as if they were a world apart. She wanted to go to him and feel his arms around her. She wanted his comfort and strength. But she couldn’t get past the emptiness inside. You could have been there, a small voice played in the back of her mind when she looked at him. Buffy pulled in a shaky breath as she recalled the morning she had spent locked in his passionate embrace. Any happiness she had felt earlier had turned into stone. 

You could have been there. 

“Buffy…” he said, crossing the space between them. 

“It was an aneurysm,” Buffy repeated, robotically. “The doctor said it happened fast; there was nothing I could have done. There wasn’t any pain... it was quick.” 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, pulling her into his arms. 

She found no warmth in his embrace. He was cold... just like her mother. Buffy allowed Spike to hold her, but she couldn’t find the energy to lift her arms to hug him back. If she hadn’t been with him, she might have caught it in time. She might have recognized the signs. She might have saved her. 

I’m feeling a little out of it tonight. I think I’ll go to bed early. 

Is everything okay? 

Yeah, just a little headache. Long day at the gallery, we had a shipping error. I should be fine once I sleep it off. 

Spike took her hand and guided her to an area where they could have some privacy. He stared at her with something akin to sorrow, but she could hardly stand to look him in the face. Words were coming from his mouth, but she couldn’t hear them over her guilty conscience. It pounded in her head, admonishing her for being irresponsible, for being with him rather than with her mother. 

“... is there anything I can do?” 

“Giles is handling the paperwork,” she replied on rote. 

Spike shook his head, “When did she… when did it happen?” 

Her head jerked up. “Time of death was most likely between ten a.m. and twelve,” she recited, looking him in the eye. “I was with you.” 

Spike let out a soft string of curses. “Slayer—Buffy... fuck, I’m sorry.” He pulled her into his arms again.

“I should have been there with her.” 

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, love. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Buffy pulled away and looked at him. “I don’t. I blame you,” she said, her voice flat. 

He had insisted that she stay, and whenever she had tried to leave, he would reel her back in, making it hard to go. If she hadn’t allowed him to distract her, she could have saved her mother. 

Spike’s head jerked back. “What?” 

“If I hadn’t been with you last night, I would have been with her. I could have done something,” she choked out. 

“Buffy…” Spike winced. “That’s not--” 

She lifted her hand to stop him from speaking. “I want you to go,” she said, curling her hands into a fist. 

“You’re upset, and you shouldn’t be goin’ through this alone,” he reasoned. 

“I’m not alone.” Her voice was firm. “I--you and me...this was a mistake.” 

“Slayer…” Spike tried again. He stepped forward just as she backed away. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want you to go,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. “Please…” 

Pleading, “Buffy,” he repeated.

“Leave! Now!” 

Spike stared at her for a moment before turning away. She watched him retreat down the hall, his duster flapping behind him. Come back! she wanted to scream. Don’t go... Buffy wanted him to stay. Her mother was gone and she needed him. She needed to feel his arms around her, but a small voice reminded her she had been with him when her mother died. 

“Buffy.” Willow put her hand on her shoulder. 

She turned to look at her friend, brushing away an errant tear from her cheek. 

“Are you okay? I mean, I know you aren’t okay. I just meant...” Willow’s voice trailed off. 

“I’m fine,” she lied, squaring her shoulders. She had to be strong for Dawn. She couldn’t let them see her cry. “Thanks.” She followed Willow back to the others. 

“Where’d Spike go?” Xander asked. 

Buffy pressed her lips together. “He had to leave.” 

Willow stepped forward as if to shield her. “Sometimes, all the support can be a little overwhelming. Maybe we should…” 

“I wish Joyce didn’t die,” Anya blurted loudly. 

Buffy sucked in a sharp breath and made eye contact with the ex-demon. She noticed the confusion in Anya’s hazel eyes... and sadness. 

Quietly, Anya added, “because she was nice. And now we all hurt.” 

“Anya, ever the wordsmith,” Xander said, his face red. 

Buffy recognized the hopeful expression on Anya’s face, and a slight smile touched her lips. “Thank you.” 

“Why don’t we get some snacks,” Willow said. “Xander, do you have any change?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, walking off with Willow. 

Buffy sat stiffly beside Tara and wondered how much longer they would have to stay at the hospital. She needed to call a funeral home—a nurse had told her that earlier. She didn’t know which one to contact; Sunnydale had so many. Giles was handling the hospital, but should she notify people? Who should she call first? Her father had returned none of her calls. He would know what to do. He’d take care of things. Her friends were trying to help, but she could tell they were at a loss, too. They kept looking at her with sad eyes, making her feel like she should comfort them. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through all of this,” she said to Tara. 

Tara took Buffy’s hand. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

Buffy stared at the row of chairs ahead of her. “Everyone wants to help, but I don’t even know if I’m... here. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done this before.” Buffy frowned. “That was a dumb thing to say. Of course I’ve never done this before.” 

“I have,” Tara whispered. “My mother... when I was seventeen.” 

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, I didn’t mean to…” Tara rushed with a sigh. “I’m only telling you this because I know it’s not m-my place, but there're things... thoughts and reactions I had that I couldn’t understand or even try to explain to anyone else. Thoughts that... made me feel like I was losing it ... or like I was some kind of ho-horrible person. I know it’s different for you ... because it’s always different. S-sometimes, you think it’s easier to crawl into yourself and push people away. But... if you ever need…” 

Like she had pushed Spike away. Buffy looked at Tara pensively as she tried to ignore any thoughts of Spike. She had just lost her mother today. 

“Was it sudden... your mother?” Buffy asked. 

“No. Yes. It’s always sudden.” 

Yes, yes, it was. 

++++

They brought back too much food. Buffy couldn’t eat any of it, even if she was hungry. Food wasn’t appealing at all. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep for a year. 

“We went a little nuts at the vending machine. The sandwiches haven’t expired yet,” Willow said, handing Buffy some chips. 

She took a bag of Funyons and set them aside. “Thanks—“ Buffy began just as a scream pierced the air. 

“Where’s Dawn?” Xander looked around. 

“She hasn’t come back from the bathroom yet,” Buffy said, before taking off down the hall.

She turned a corner, her feet pounding as she followed the sound of Dawn’s screams. Buffy forced her way through a door marked PERSONNEL ONLY and spotted Dawn struggling with a vampire. It grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head to the side, exposing her throat. Dawn yelped and continued to struggle. Anger surging through her, Buffy stalked toward the vampire and jerked him away from Dawn. The force of the motion sent Dawn flying forward into a gurney. Buffy continued to struggle with the vampire, punching it in the gut as they rolled on the floor. Straining to hold it off, Buffy reached toward the surgical table and grabbed a bone saw. She held it into the vampire’s throat and pushed it against his skin, cutting off its head. Breathing heavily, Buffy lay still for a moment before rolling to her side. 

“Dawn?” 

“Is she cold?” Dawn asked, pulling herself into a kneeling position. 

No, no, no, don’t look. “It’s not her. She’s gone.” Buffy forced the words between her stiff lips. 

“Where did she go?” Dawn whimpered. 

To a better place. Heaven. I don’t know… “Dawn, don’t,” she pleaded desperately. 

Buffy watched in muted horror as Dawn stood to her feet and looked into Joyce’s lifeless face. Unable to stop herself, Buffy joined Dawn by the table and gazed into her mother’s glassy eyes. 

++++

Dawn had cried herself to sleep. Buffy had finally gotten her to calm down around midnight. She hated to see her in so much pain. Dawn’s sobs had wracked her body until she was spent. She crept out of the bedroom, turning off the light as she stepped into the hall. Buffy glanced at her digital clock and frowned. She had called her father again at nine, and he still hadn’t called her back. Buffy bit back a sob, clamping her teeth over her lips. Their dad wasn’t “Mr. Reliable,” but she couldn’t understand why he ignored her calls. This was important. We need you, dad…

Blurry eyed, Buffy made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. She tried not to think about her father’s lack of communication. He would call... he had to. Even if they weren’t married anymore, he had loved her mother once. He’d come through when it really counted… he had to. Buffy laid on the floor, curling her legs into a fetal position. 

“Oh, mom…” she sobbed. “I need you.” 

Buffy squeezed her eyes tighter, forcing out the image of Joyce laying cold and pale in the hospital morgue. She tried hard to recall her smile, but all she could remember was finding her lifeless body on the sofa. Buffy dragged her hands through her hair, realizing she’d never see Joyce’s smile again. Or hear her voice. She could live for another twenty years, and she’d never see her mother again. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she sobbed. 

“Buffy…” Willow called from outside the door. 

Standing quickly, Buffy turned on the shower and stepped inside, muffling her cries. She needed a moment alone with her pain. 

Tomorrow.

She’d face everything else tomorrow.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm really not great about updating here on this site. I'll be posting chapters 17-19. I post more often and keep up with updating on Elysian Fields. If you are a spuffy fan, check out the site. There are many wonderful stories and authors hosted there. https://dark-solace.org/elysian/viewstory.php?sid=6261

Every day felt like a thousand tomorrows. 

And each tomorrow had more stuff for her to do. Buffy looked at the price sheet again, narrowing it down between Joan’s Flower Shop and Kabloom. Joan’s was pricier than the other, but she couldn’t bring herself to hire the latter. Who ordered funeral flowers from a place called Kabloom, anyway? 

“Oh, these flowers are so lovely.”

“I got them from Kabloom. Their prices are swell.” 

Wincing, Buffy placed the comparison sheet Willow had made for her aside. Why did people order flowers, anyway? It wasn’t like her mother would ever see them or enjoy them. She was—Buffy still couldn’t bring herself to say the D-word. She couldn’t bring herself to say and do a lot of things. Waking up in the mornings had become a chore; today had been the worst because she and Dawn had gone coffin picking. They had spent hours looking at wooden box after wooden box, finally settling on a tasteful coffin made of maple. The funeral director had assured them it spoke of their “deep feelings for the deceased.” The deceased. The deceased was her mother. Buffy wanted to yell her name in his face, but she couldn’t find the energy to stay angry. He was only doing his job. 

Giles helped with the gravestone, insisting that he cover the expense while she battled the insurance company. All those years she had spent hanging around cemeteries, Buffy had never thought of the cost. Each day, the cash reserves were dwindling. The insurance company still hadn’t cut the check they had promised days ago because they were missing information. Joyce had told her as much as she could, but there were still things Buffy didn’t know. She had called Hank, leaving him messages at his job, the apartment in L.A., even calling him in Spain—that number was no longer in service. 

“You know, I’ll never understand why I had to get a number from your doorman. Or why you couldn’t pick up the phone when your daughter is calling you to tell you, the mother of your children died! I shouldn’t have to do this…” 

“I’ve been calling and calling. You’re unfuckingbelievable, you know that? I swear, when you finally get these messages, stay the hell out of our lives. We don’t need you…”

“Daddy, I’m sorry about that last message. Things are... this is so hard. Please call me back. I need you…”

“Has your dad called back yet? Xander asked, handing Dawn a sack from Doublemeat Palace. 

Buffy stared at the cheery logo, recalling her conversation with Spike. She hadn’t seen him since that day at the hospital. Her heart ached every time she thought about him and the things she had said. She didn’t blame him for Joyce—she blamed herself—but it was easier to project those feelings on him because anger was better than shame. She wanted him around. Things were harsh, demanding all of her when she didn’t have much left to give. Buffy longed to chase away the numbness with his smile and the effortless way he could make her feel better when things were bad. She had pushed him away when she needed him the most. 

“The number to his apartment in Spain is no good, and I’ve left messages everywhere. Um, how about a line that just says, ‘Following the burial, there will be no wake’? Or 'gathering'?” Buffy replied, focusing on the things she could control. “Or, ‘At the request of Joyce, there will be no gathering’? Ugh, that sounds lame.”

She placed a finger to her temple and began massaging the beginnings of a headache away. 

“Yeah, just a little headache. Long day at the gallery, we had a shipping error. I should be fine once I sleep it off.” 

“So, are we just going to come back here after the... after? Dawn asked, pushing her fries around. 

“I don’t know. I guess so. Um, how about ‘At the request of the family, there will be no wake'?’” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Willow said, from across the table. 

“I don’t wanna be here.” 

“At the top or bottom?” Buffy asked, ignoring Dawn. 

“Willow, can I go to your place after?” Dawn asked.

“Well, I mean, if Buffy doesn’t mind,” Willow hesitated, glancing at Buffy. 

“Can I?” 

Buffy looked up from the funeral programs with confusion in her eyes. “Huh?” 

“Can I go with Willow after the service?” 

Buffy made eye contact with Willow. Why wouldn’t Dawn want to come home with her? “If you want to, I guess so,” Buffy replied, hurt. 

“Okay, I’ll go start packing my stuff. My sleeping bag is in the attic.” Dawn rushed out of the dining room. 

Buffy watched her sister go, wishing she knew what to say to comfort her, but she didn’t have the words. Everything she thought of sounded like a stupid cliche she had read in a sympathy card. What could she say to her sister to make her feel better when she didn’t know how to deal herself? 

“Buffy...are you sure? Maybe you two should be together.” 

Buffy looked up at Willow and forced a thin smile. “It’s okay. I want to do what’s best for her,” she said, returning to the funeral programs. Which font do I choose?

++++

Spike took another swig of his bourbon and closed his eyes. He welcomed the burn as it settled in his gut. He thought about his last day with Buffy. It had started off so promising before it had become the worst day of both their lives. She had lost her mother, and he had lost a woman whom he had considered a friend. It had also been the day his short-lived relationship with Buffy had ended. Spike grimaced as he thought of her last words to him. She blamed him for Joyce’s death because they had been in bed together while her mother died. He took another drink, hating himself for talking her into staying. If he hadn’t been so selfish, she’d have made it home in time... maybe. 

Spike had seen enough of death to know that there was nothing anyone could do when their number was up. Still, he couldn’t shake the... guilt. Spike hadn’t experienced that emotional response in years. Guilt was for the people encroached with souls—not for creatures like him. Yet, he replayed his night with Buffy—unable to enjoy the memory with the pall of Joyce’s death looming over his head. In his fantasies, he had sent Buffy home so she could be there in time to help Joyce. 

She could save the sodding world, but what good were her powers if she couldn’t save her mother? 

Muttering, Spike let out a string of curses, damning his sorry luck.

“You and me... this was a mistake.”

He didn’t agree, but he couldn’t blame her for thinking so. Spike’s mind drifted to his own mother. He may not have been responsible for Joyce’s death, but he had been responsible for hers. Anne hadn’t died of natural causes. He had sired her, turning her into a cruel, heartless monster. High on blood and lust and sex, he hadn’t thought about the consequences of his actions. Almost a century later, he still regretted turning her, and in the quiet moments, he thought about how he could have spared her if he had left when Dru asked him to. 

Spike glanced out the window, noting the change in the light outside. He had respected Buffy’s wishes, staying away from her even though everything inside him screamed to be with her. He wanted to be there for her, to comfort her and support her. Sighing, Spike’s mind shifted back to Joyce, and he took another drink. She was a real nice lady, always kind to him. Even after their first unfortunate meeting, she never seemed to judge him. She reminded him of his own mother, and he would miss her...

Buffy may not have wanted him around, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pay his respects. He at least owed Joyce that. Mustering up the courage, Spike left the loneliness of his crypt and headed toward his car. 

++++

Spike parked far enough away, so Buffy and her band of geeks wouldn’t spot him. She wanted him to stay away, and he’d respect her wishes. With a bouquet in hand, he walked the lighted path toward Buffy’s house. 

“What are you doing here, Spike?” Xander greeted him with a frown. “I thought Buffy told you to leave her alone.” 

“Xander, not here,” Willow said, with a worried expression on her face.

Sighing, Spike looked up at the house, then back at Xander. “I’m not going in.” 

“And you’re not leaving those either,” he said, nodding toward the flowers. “Buffy doesn’t want you around anymore. Do you think you’re going to score points with her this way?”

Spike’s eyes fluttered as he took a calming breath. “This isn’t about Buffy. They’re for Joyce. She was the only one of you lot that I could stand. I liked her. Understand, Monkeyboy?” Now that he and Buffy were no longer he and Buffy, Spike didn’t care if he offended Xander. He'd tried to keep the peace because Buffy hated it when they argued. Now he had nothing to lose. “She was decent. Didn’t put on airs, and she always had a nice cuppa for me. She was a friend. And she never treated me like a freak.” 

“Her mistake,” Xander said with a sneer. “For a moment, you might have had Buffy fooled, but I guess she’s come to her senses.” 

Spike flexed his jaw, biting back his anger. This was still Joyce’s house, and he hadn’t come here to fight. She wouldn’t have wanted that. “Think what you want,” he retorted, tossing the flowers at Xander’s feet before stomping off. 

++++

“That was Mrs. Eckelson. She wanted to know if you wanted the flowers sent here or at the funeral home. I told her the funeral home,” Giles said, walking into the dining room. 

Grateful, Buffy mouthed, “Thank you.” She was all phoned out. Her neighbors and Joyce’s friends meant well, but if she had to listen to another platitude, she’d lose it. And she couldn’t lose it. 

“Can you believe that guy? Wait—actually, I can.” Buffy heard Xander’s voice from the foyer. 

Pushing the program samples aside, Buffy rose to her feet and moved to the front of the house. “What guy?” she asked from the doorway. 

Xander’s eyes darted toward Willow before meeting hers again. “Spike. It’s like he refuses to take a hint.” 

“Spike was here?” 

“He left you flowers,” Willow said, handing them to Buffy. “He said they were for Joyce.” 

Buffy took the bouquet and held them in her hand. It was a simple arrangement, made of baby’s breath and wildflowers. He didn’t leave a note. “Is he still outside?” she asked Xander. 

“Maybe, he took off down the street.” 

Placing the flowers aside, Buffy grabbed her coat and raced out the door. She spotted him just as he was about to climb into his car. “Spike!” 

“I meant no harm with the flowers,” he explained. 

Buffy shook her head, walking toward him. “I don’t care about the flowers. I mean, I do, but that’s not why—“ She let out an exasperated sigh, attempting to gather her thoughts. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “The other night at the hospital...I didn’t mean it. I was... I—“ Her face crumpled. 

Spike gathered her into his arms and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, sinking into his embrace. This is what she had needed, Buffy realized as he held her against him. 

“It’s all right, pet,” Spike soothed. “I’m here.” 

Pulling back, she quickly brushed a few stray tears away. “I was ugly to you, and you didn’t deserve that,” she confessed. “I’m sorry I said those things to you.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear. “You just lost your mum.” Spike looked down at his boots. “I’m sorry for keeping you—“ 

Buffy shook her head emphatically. “No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” 

“Neither of us could.” 

“She said she had a headache…” 

“Shh.” Spike tugged her forward. “Don’t do that to yourself,” he whispered close to her ear. “You couldn’t have known. And I’m sure Joyce wouldn’t want you blamin’ yourself.” Spike cupped her cheeks so she would look at him. "It wasn’t your fault, Buffy. It wasn’t." 

Gazing into his eyes, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe there wasn’t any more she could have done to prevent her mother’s death. Most nights, she found herself unable to sleep as she lay awake, unable to stop herself from thinking she could have done more, asking herself if she had missed any signs. Or maybe if she had caught it sooner.

“I feel so... bad,” Buffy admitted. “And lost. And, and…” her voice cracked with unchecked emotion. 

“Then let me be here for you, love. Let me shoulder some of this for you.” Spike took her hands. “I know now this isn’t the time, but I love you, Buffy. Let me love you.” 

She saw the unspoken please in his eyes, and the wall she had constructed came crumbling down. She’d been trying to be so strong for Dawn and her friends, she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve since that first night in the bathroom. 

“I miss her so much…” Buffy trembled against him. “I think about her every day, and every day she dies a million times. I’m trying. I’m trying to be there for Dawn, but she needs her mother, Spike. I need my mother.” 

Before she could stop herself, words she didn’t know she had inside came pouring out. Spike held her, standing in front of his parked car while Buffy told him everything from the moment she found her mother to picking out funeral announcements. Spent, she rested her forehead against his shoulder, weak from keeping everything bottled up inside. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, pulling away from him. “I didn’t mean to unleash that on you.” 

Spike took her hand and pulled her close again. “You never have to apologize to me for that. S’what I’m here for, pet. Just wish I could do more.” 

“Just having you hear, listening to me blubber is enough.” 

“You’re not blubbering.” He stroked her jaw with his thumb. “You’re grieving. And it’s okay to grieve. You’ve spent years sacrificin’ yourself to help others, doin’ what’s right. It’s okay to think of yourself for a change. And you’ve got me. We’ll do this together, okay?” 

Buffy’s chest tightened, making her feel weepy all over again. I love you. “Okay,” she said, stepping back into his arms. 

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, relaxing against him. Buffy closed her eyes as he whispered words of comfort to her while he held her. 

“It’s gettin’ cold,” he said after a while. 

“Yeah,” she agreed and laced her hands with his. 

They walked back to her house in silence. Buffy didn’t waste time with any explanations. Instead, she and Spike resumed planning the funeral. 

“What do you think about these programs?” she asked, handing Spike the samples. 

++++

The woman in the casket was not her mother. Buffy tried hard to find her, but without her life force, essence, soul, or whatever it was called... the person laying there was nothing more than an empty shell. A body. 

“Why does she look like that?” Dawn remarked during the viewing. 

“It’s the makeup,” Buffy murmured. 

The sun was unbelievably bright that afternoon, and Buffy wished it had rained. The clear blue sky seemed to contradict her mood, mocking her grief with warm sunny weather. She stared ahead as the minister droned on, reading from his notes. Joyce had been a member of his parish, but he didn’t remember her. The Summers family was more of the CME (Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Easter) denomination. Buffy had stopped attending church when she turned fifteen—it was hard to believe in all that Biblical stuff after facing down her first vampire. Still, her mother grew up protestant and had requested a Christian burial. 

“It was nice of Brian to come,” Dawn said, as the crowd dispersed. 

“Yeah…” Buffy recalled the somber expression on his face.

He hadn’t known Joyce for very long, but he'd made it to the funeral. Their dad had not. He had given them some lame excuse, blaming work for tying him up. 

“But I’ll fly out first thing next week. Promise.” 

“Sure.” 

“He seemed cool. I’m glad she got to meet someone nice before she...you know.” 

“Me too,” Buffy replied without inflection. 

“Anyway, Willow and Tara are waiting for me by the car. But if you need me to stay…” 

Buffy gave her sister a stiff smile. “No, you go ahead. I think I’ll stay awhile.” 

“Okay…” Dawn said reluctantly, leaving Buffy alone to her thoughts. 

++++ 

Spike looked out the window of his crypt and cursed the sun. He had hoped for overcast, but there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. Spike had planned to attend the funeral from a distance beneath the cover of a large oak tree not too far from the burial site. He had even rustled up an oversized umbrella to shield himself from the U.V. rays that threatened to incinerate him. Looking at the sky, Spike doubted he’d be able to make it, shady oak or not. 

“Bleeding sun,” he grumbled, pacing around his living space. 

Buffy was trying to be strong, but he could tell that she was falling apart inside. And he was doing everything he could to ease her burdens—patrolling at night, calling the print shop to change the font for the third time, keeping track of who sent flowers for thank you cards. 

If it wasn’t such a somber occasion, he might have laughed. After a century; he’d been housebroken—Beauty had tamed the Beast. Spike didn’t mind. He liked being a shoulder Buffy could lean on. She fought it like hell, but he wouldn’t let her push him away again. Spike glanced at the sky, wishing he could be there for her in the flesh rather than in spirit. 

At a quarter to six, the sun set, and Spike grew anxious as it disappeared behind the horizon. He quickly made his way to Buffy’s house with an apology on his lips for missing the service. Spike turned down Revello Drive just as the street lights flickered on and stood in front of the darkened house. 

“She’s not here.” 

Bloody hell. Of course he’d come. Spike turned just as Angel stepped out of the shadows, swathed in his usual brooding black. Wanker. “And how long have you been skulking in the shadows?” 

“Not very long.” Angel looked up at the sky. “I figured they’d be back by now. For the wake.” 

“There isn’t one. Joyce didn’t fancy people moping about. Called it a depressin’ potluck.” 

“Joyce?” Angel raised a brow. “Didn’t know you were on a first-name basis with Buffy’s mom.” 

Spike squinted his eyes at his grandsire. There was a time when he'd looked up to the git and even tried to gain his approval. Now, he just wanted him to go away. Buffy was vulnerable. He didn’t need Angel swooping in trying to steal the spotlight. He knew Buffy still carried a torch for him, and deep down, Spike was afraid that she’d forget about him the moment she laid her eyes on Angel and his massive forehead. 

“Shouldn’t you be in L.A. going all grrr on the locals?” Spike said, making monster claws at him. “Dru told me all about her and Darla’s plan to turn you evil again.” 

“Didn’t work,” Angel said with a smug smile. “How’s the chip?” Angel jutted his chin forward. 

Scowling, Spike shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Workin’ out just fine for me, mate.” And because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Buffy seems to like it.” Spike enjoyed the look of muted shock on Angel’s face once he made the connection. At least he'd got one good hit below the belt before Buffy fell into Angel’s arms again. 

“So...you and Buffy, huh?” Angel shook his head. “How’d you pull that off? Had some witch or demon put a spell on her?” 

Spike made a scoffing noise. “Not my style. I’ve never had to force a woman." He cast angel a knowing look. "The Slayer and I got close working together. Things happened.” 

Angel gave him a curt once over. “It’ll never work between you two.” 

“And why the hell not?” Spike took a step forward, hating that Angel had voiced his worst fear. 

“Because Buffy will eventually see through this good-guy act you’re putting on. Or you’ll have that chip taken out of your head one day and go back to being the same rotten demon you once were. She could never love you. You’re beneath her.” 

Snarling, Spike lunged forward, fist flying. His hands connected with Angel’s jaw with a loud thwap! “Stupid git,” he muttered as they struggled to land effective hits. “You’re just jealous because some Gypsy used bargain brand magic to give you a soul. One moment of happiness, pfft.” 

Angel knocked Spike to the ground with a triumphant grin. “At least I have a soul--“ 

Instinctively, Spike kicked out his leg, connecting it with Angel’s thigh. The vampire stumbled forward, landing on top of him. “Get off me,” Spike seethed, shoving Angel away.

They lay on their backs, chest heaving with unneeded breath. Spike sat up first and climbed to his feet, begrudgingly helping Angel stand. There was blood on the corner of his lips, and his stupid hair was out of place. Pleased, Spike reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his flask. He took a long fortifying swig before handing it to Angel. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s bourbon,” he said, noticing the look on his face. 

Angel sniffed at it and took a drink. “Do you know where she might be?” he asked after a while. 

“Don’t reckon she’ll be up for much company,” Spike answered. 

Angel lifted the flask to his mouth and paused. 

“The cemetery,” they said in unison. 

Shit. While he was letting Angel distract him, Buffy was standing out in the cold alone. He moved past him, hurrying toward Shadyhill. 

“Where are you going?” Angel asked, matching his stride. 

“To find Buffy,” he answered. 

Angel stopped and jangled his keys. “We’ll get there faster by car.” 

“She’s at Shadyhill,” Spike said, climbing into the passenger side. 

They rode in silence as Angel drove through the sleepy suburban streets until they reached the cemetery. Spike climbed out first and headed to the burial site. 

Spike spotted her standing alone in front of Joyce’s fresh grave. He moved forward, momentarily forgetting that Angel was beside him. Everything inside of him yearned to be near her, to offer his comfort. Spike glanced at Angel, noting his grim expression. Putting their petty rivalry behind them, they crossed the cemetery together in a silent truce. 

Spike stood beside her. He could feel Buffy’s sorrow flowing from her and into him, through the three of them, connecting their grief. Angel took her hand, and he couldn’t muster the energy to be jealous or even upset. She was hurting, and he would do and be whatever she needed if it would help ease her pain. Without a word, Buffy reached for him, curling her fingers around his. 

“Thank you…” 

++++

Angel was gone. He'd left before sunrise after sitting with them for hours. Once the initial awkwardness of sharing space with the two vampires had worn off, Buffy had finally allowed herself to be. They had talked little, neither vampire demanding an explanation or answers she wasn’t ready to give. Angel had offered his condolences and words of encouragement. But it had been Spike who surprised her the most. He had given her exactly what she needed—his support. 

Buffy dried her hair with a towel, blotting it gently as she walked past Dawn’s room. The house was empty, but she wasn’t alone. After Angel had dropped them off, she had asked Spike to stay. 

“I made you something hot,” he said, passing her a steaming cup of cocoa. 

Buffy gave him a thin smile and glanced at her bed. He had turned down her comforter and laid out her favorite pair of fuzzy socks. 

“Thanks.” She took a tiny sip and placed it aside. 

Without prompting, he took her into his arms and held her close. Buffy rested her cheek against his, grateful that this horrible day was over and he was there with her. After several long minutes, exhaustion took over, making her body weak. She hadn’t slept or eaten in days, working nonstop on the funeral.

“Here, love…” Spike guided her to the bed and tucked her in. 

A grateful sigh escaped her lips as she disappeared beneath the comfort of her blankets. “Thank you.” 

Spike sat on the edge of the mattress and gazed down at her. “Wish I could do more. Wish I could have been there sittin’ beside you.” 

“I know. I wanted you there. The funeral was…” Buffy paused, searching for the right word. “Brutal. But it’s tomorrow I’m worried about.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Until now, I’ve had a road map, things to do every minute. Now it’s done, and I don’t know what’s next. 

“Tomorrow you have to go back to the rest of it.” 

Buffy nodded. She wasn’t sure she was ready to go back to the mundane and not so mundane parts of life. Things were different now, and she and Dawn would have to adjust. Everyone would look to her, expecting her to be a certain way. They all thought she was strong because she could stick wood in vampires, but her mother was strong. She was the glue that kept her family together, and now she was gone. 

“I keep thinking about it, Spike. How I stood there like I was paralyzed or something. I didn’t even start CPR until the paramedics told me to.” 

“Buffy… the doctors said it wouldn’t have made a difference.” 

“They said it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.” 

Buffy couldn’t let go of that "probably." If she had gotten there ten minutes sooner. Or if she had known what to do the moment she realized her mother wasn’t breathing. 

Probably. 

“You’re the only one I’ve told,” she added. 

Spike took her hand. “You can’t keep torturin’ yourself like this, love. You did the best you could.” 

“But what if my best isn’t good enough? It would be different if I didn’t have Dawn…” 

“Yeah...but I know you. You’ll do more. You’ll fight harder. And you’ll try to do it on your own.” 

“I guess I’m kinda predictable.” 

Spike’s lips twitched into a grin. “Never that.” 

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t think I ever told her she was a good mother. We spent a lot of time arguing. Mostly because of slaying.” Buffy sighed. “I wish she knew… I wish I could have been the kind of daughter she wanted.” 

“My mum was...she used to sing me to sleep. And listen to me prattle on about nonsense…” Spike began. "In the end I…" he shook his head. “She was a good mum. Joyce was a good mum. And she knew. They always know,” he said in a wistful tone. “You are a good daughter, Buffy.” He placed his finger under her chin. “And Joyce loved you.” 

Touched, Buffy reached for his hand. “Stay with me,” she said, lifting the blanket, inviting him in her bed. 

He stood, pulling his t-shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor before joining her. Buffy cuddled against him, curving her hips to his. 

“Get some rest,” Spike said, kissing her shoulders. 

Buffy closed her eyes. She had gotten through all the todays. Now it was time to face the tomorrows. 

++++

Ben couldn’t wait to get home so he could decompress. Home. His home. For weeks he had woken up in his own bed, beneath his roof. Glory was gone. He had figured out the right cocktail to suppress the hell-god. He had taken his life back. 

Ben was about to climb into his car when Jinx slunk out of the shadows, approaching him. “I’m sick of running into you Jawa-rejects. My sister is gone. So go back to the hellhole you crawled from.” 

“Your freedom is only temporary. You are no match for Glory’s strength and splendor. Eventually, your hold on her will weaken. In the meantime, I came to you regarding your relationship with the Slayer.” 

“We don’t have a relationship,” Ben said between clenched teeth. 

“But... you attempted to court her, did you not?” 

“You’re more fun when I hit you.” 

“I think it would be most advantageous for you to continue your pursuit of the Slayer. It might lead to more information about the key.” 

“Even if I tried to date Buffy, why would I share that with the most unstable one?” 

“Time is running short, sir. Every moment you fight Glory, you’re only fighting yourself, you see?” 

“Fine. Let the best me win. But understand this: I won’t help her find the key. I would never do that to an innocent—“ Ben stopped, wincing at his near slip of the tongue. 

Jinx furrowed his scaly brow. “An innocent? The key? That’s an interesting choice of words.” 

Ben shook his head. “No, that, that’s not what I--“ 

“I understand, sir. I’m sorry to have bothered you, I’ll... take my leave.” Jinx backed away. 

Ben grabbed Jinx’s shoulders. “You understand what? When I said it’s innocent, I didn’t mean that the key is ... it’s not a person.” 

“Of course not.” 

“She’s gone. I won’t let you tell her. Do you understand what will happen if she finds the key? How many people will die?” 

“As I said, sir, your hold over Glorificus is tenuous. She will break free.” 

“I can’t let that happen.” Ben snatched the dagger from Jinx’s belt. “Don’t you see? I can’t.” He pushed the blade into the demon’s gut and pushed it to the ground.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm really not great about updating here on this site. I'll be posting chapters 17-19. I post more often and keep up with updating on Elysian Fields. If you are a spuffy fan, check out the site. There are many wonderful stories and authors hosted there. https://dark-solace.org/elysian/viewstory.php?sid=6261

“What’s all this?” Dawn asked Spike a few mornings later. Yawning, she took a seat at the kitchen table and watched as he moved from the counter to the stove. 

“Breakfast,” he answered as he added fresh cut mushrooms to his sausages. It had been a while since he'd cooked a meal on something larger than a hotplate, and he was still getting his timing right. 

“Breakfast?” Dawn moved from the table to peer over his shoulder. “That doesn’t look like breakfast.” 

Chuckling, Spike stirred the pot of simmering baked beans and turned down the burner. He didn’t want them to overcook and dry out. “That’s because you Americans wouldn’t know a good meal if it bit you in the arse. I mean--”

“Please, I’ve heard worse at school. What is this stuff exactly? Beans, fried eggs… it looks like: ‘one of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn’t belong.’”

“It’s a traditional English breakfast, love. You’ve got fried eggs, baked beans, bacon, bangers, mushrooms, fried tomatoes, and toast,” he said just as two golden pieces of bread sprang from the toaster. “Thought you and big sis could use a bit of comfort food.”

Especially Buffy, he thought, worrying about her dwindling appetite. If she kept skipping meals, she’d disappear. He wiped his hands on the dishtowel around his waist and took two plates out of the cupboard. 

“Mom used to make breakfast on Saturdays, too,” Dawn said, watching him. "She called it ‘big breakfast Saturdays.’" 

Spike recognized the melancholy in her voice, and set a plate in front of her. “I didn’t know that. What did she make?” 

“Oh, just the normal stuff. Eggs, bacon, pancakes…” Dawn pushed the beans around with her fork. “She promised us we’d have a ‘pancake palooza’ when she got better.” Her voice broke on the last word. 

Cursing himself, Spike turned around to face her. He hadn’t meant to make Dawn cry over breakfast. “I’m sorry.” 

Dawn shook her head and stood from the table. “It’s not your fault. I guess I’m not very hungry anymore. Can I go to my room?” 

“Erm, yeah. I’ll, uh, just pack this away, and if you get hungry later, it’ll be right here waiting for you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Sighing, Spike fixed a plate for Buffy and topped it off with some English breakfast tea. He hoped his gesture didn’t inspire the same reaction from her. Spike was doing his best to help both Summers women through their grieving process, but he was as lost as they were. After the funeral, he had informally moved into the house, and Buffy had outfitted him with a blanket and a pillow for the sofa. He started his nights down in the family room, but by morning ended up in bed with Buffy. They spent their nights sleeping chastely beside each other while he held her in his arms. In the mornings, he would creep back to the family room and stretch out on the sofa if Dawn woke first. 

Spike carried the serving tray up the stairs to Buffy’s room, where she was still asleep, buried underneath the comforter. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on her thigh.

“Mornin’,” he said when her eyes fluttered open. 

“Morning.” Buffy sat up, stretching into a yawn. “You cooked breakfast. You can cook?” 

Chucking, he laid the tray on her lap. “Among other things.” He had watched a cooking show or two in his free time. 

“Smells great,” she said, surveying her tray. “But I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish all of it.” 

“Eat what you can,” he encouraged. 

Buffy looked down at her plate, and a slight frown creased her brow. “Where do I start?” 

“Here, with the bangers and beans.” He took her knife and cut into the sausage, scooping up some beans with her fork. Spike watched as she took the first savory bite and enjoyed the light of approval reflected in her eyes. 

“This is good.” She took another bite and stopped mid-chew. “What time is it?”

Spike glanced at the digital clock by the bed. “Ten.” 

“Oh, my God! Dawn. I have to get her to school,” she said, panicked. 

“It’s Saturday, pet,” Spike assured her, rubbing her leg. 

"It is? All my days are bleeding together." 

Spike imagined they would. She’d been sleeping a lot more, and he had done little to discourage it. He had worried about all those sleepless nights while she’d been planning the funeral. 

“I figured today you could enjoy some breakfast in bed. Let me worry about the rest.” 

Buffy took his hand. “Wow, if I had known you were going to be the perfect boyfriend, I would have dated you a long time ago.” 

A grin spread across his face. Having Angel show up had shaken his confidence in their relationship, and that one statement nearly made his existence. Until then, he had expected the other shoe to drop.

“I’m a perfect boyfriend, huh?” 

“Maybe,” she teased. 

Spike leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Eat up, before your eggs get cold.” 

++++

It was time for Buffy to face the harsh reality of it all. With Joyce gone, she would need to make some adjustments in her life. And one of those adjustments was college.

“Take this and get it signed by the professors from all the classes you want to withdraw from. You’ve missed the deadline for a withdrawal grade, so you’ll receive incompletes.” 

“How does that affect my G.P.A.?” Buffy asked, suddenly regretting her decision to drop out of school. No, not drop out! This is a break. I’m taking a break. 

“Well, you’ll receive an incomplete in the place of a letter grade, and you must repeat those courses next semester, or the incompletes will be replaced with Fs.” 

Wincing, Buffy looked down at her withdrawal form. She took five classes that semester if she counted her lab. “Um, is there a way I can withdraw with Ws? You see my mom--“

“Sorry, young lady,” the registrar cut her off. “You waited until after the deadline to withdraw from classes. I wish I could make an exception, but I can’t.” 

Buffy pressed her lips into a thin line. “Thank you.” 

There was always next semester, Buffy reminded herself. Still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of failure that clung to her as she walked across the quad to professor Cringle's class. She’d been doing so well, thanks to Spike. But even with his help, she couldn’t find the time to juggle classes, slaying, and taking care of Dawn. Things were different now, and someone had to be the responsible adult in the family. Buffy couldn’t rely on her father to be there for them. He’d already called to cancel his trip earlier that morning with another lame excuse. 

“I’m sorry I can’t make it, but I’ll wire you some money, sweetheart. And I promise, as soon as this work thing clears up, I’ll fly you both out to L.A. Spring break is just around the corner.” 

No, she was doing the right thing. She’d get a handle on life again once everything settled down, and they figured out what to do about Glory. There was always summer semester. 

++++

Spike flipped through the channels and pretended not to watch the clock. Buffy is a big girl, he reminded himself. But he couldn’t help the worry creeping inside of him. She put on a good front for her friends, but he knew her. He knew that she was hurting and trying to hide it by staying busy. He saw the stress behind her green eyes and the constant worry that kept her restless at night. On those evenings, he’d hold her until she drifted off In his arms. But sleep didn’t bring her much solace. She sometimes talked, worrying about Dawn, even in her dreams. Spike preferred that over her gut-wrenching nightmares about Joyce. Too often, he’d woken up to Buffy’s whimpering cries or tears soaking his chest. She tried to hide her pain, but he saw through the facade. Neither of them spoke about it in the mornings, each day, falling into their unspoken domestic arrangement. 

“Dawnie! I’m home!” Buffy called from the kitchen door. “And I’ve got fried chicken. Your favorite.” 

Spike stood up and rushed through the house to greet her. “I’d have cooked,” he said, frowning at the sorry bucket of original recipe on the counter. 

Buffy shrugged off her jacket and draped it around a chair. “I know, but you do so much already. I took care of dinner tonight. Dad wired us some cash this morning, and I thought, ‘let’s go nuts’ on this family meal deal.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a brief hug. 

“Is he still coming?” 

“Something came up with work, but he’s flying us out for spring break.” 

Sorry sod. He wished he could give Hank Summers a piece of his mind. What could be more important than his daughters? 

“Anyway, there’ll be plenty for leftovers.” Buffy looked past his shoulders. “Where is Dawn? She usually comes running when the word chicken is mentioned.” 

“I’ll go check on her. Why don’t you go take a load off?” 

Buffy sighed and hugged him again. “I could get used to this, you know,” she murmured, giving him a peck on the lips.

“That’s the plan. Now off you go,” he said, swatting her on the behind. 

Spike climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed to Dawn’s room. He knocked on the door and waited. No response. He heard nothing on the other side, but knocked again anyway—still no response. Spike jiggled the doorknob before opening the door. “All right, Bit, I’m coming in,” he warned and stepped into the empty room. 

His eyes flew to the open window, and a soft curse escaped his lips. “Gonna need to fashion a cowbell around you one of these days,” he muttered, looking around for clues. Spike flipped through some loose papers and frowned at a list of ingredients sitting on top of her biology homework. Not your typical science project, is it, Dawn? 

Moving fast, Spike grabbed a doll from the desk chair and tucked it beneath the comforter. He couldn’t let Buffy find out what her little sister was trying to conjure up. In all his years of un-living, he’d never seen a resurrection spell executed successfully. No matter how powerful the witch, they always came back wrong, and Dawn was no witch. He didn’t want to think about what her fledgling hands would raise from Joyce’s grave. Spike hurried down the stairs and grabbed his duster from the coat tree by the door. 

“Bit’s sound asleep,” he said as he shrugged on his coat. 

Buffy uncurled herself from the sofa and joined him in the foyer. “Okay, but where are you going?” 

“Thought I’d get in a quick sweep. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“You don’t have to. I can go…” 

Spike shook his head. “No, you stay and rest. It’ll be quick.” He kissed her quickly on the lips and disappeared through the front door. 

++++

It didn’t take long for Spike to find her. She was kneeling by Joyce’s grave, scooping clumps of dirt into a mason jar. “I hope it’s just dirt you’re after,” he said, coming up behind Dawn.

She jumped, visibly startled by his intrusion. “Spike--“ 

“If the spell calls for anything more than that, you’re into zombie territory, and that’s bad news.” 

“I wasn’t—It’s not what you think,” Dawn said weakly. 

He lifted a brow, spotting the book she clutched in her free hand. “I know good and well what you’re up to. That book you’ve got there is infamous. Where did you get it from? Giles or Red?” 

“Please... don’t tell Buffy. I just... I have to get her back.” 

The anguished look on the teenager’s face broke him, but he couldn’t let her rash behavior slide. “Do you even know what you’re meddlin' with? What you could possibly bring back?" Spike scolded. 

“You don’t understand!” Dawn said, her voice shrill with emotion. “I need her, Spike. I need her…” 

Sighing, he gently pried the book from her hand and read the cover. “I know you’re hurtin’, Lil’ Bit, but I’m one hundred percent certain that this,” he said, shaking the book in her face, “is not the way. One mistake, and it won’t be your mum comin’ back from that grave.” 

“I won’t know unless I try.” Dawn lifted her chin in defiance. 

“All right,” he said, humoring her for a moment. “Let’s say you rustle up everything you need for that spell of yours. Have you ever done anything like this before? 

“No--"

“Ever seen anything like it?” 

“No, but Willow--"

“Tell me, what are you going to do when your mom is trapped down there, screamin’, trying to claw her way out of her coffin, losing air with every terrifying minute?” 

“I--"

“Do you have the slightest idea what could happen if she came back wrong or even at all?" Dawn shook her head and looked away. “Look,” Spike placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re hurting. You and Buffy--"

“Buffy?! Buffy isn’t hurting. She just walks around like nothing is wrong, like mom didn’t die,” she choked on the last word. “She doesn’t care.” 

Spike frowned. “Is that what you think?” 

“She hasn’t even cried. And when she isn’t avoiding me, she acts like I’m some chore she has to deal with. Or like she’s cleaning up mom’s mess,” Dawn cried. 

Bloody—. Hesitating for a moment, Spike put his arms around Dawn, holding her loosely in his arms. He hated when the Summers women cried. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he needed her to understand the magnitude of trying to raise the dead. 

“I think you should talk to your sister,” Spike said once her tears subsided. “Buffy cares, more than you know. She’s just worried about not being able to fill your mum’s shoes... or failing you.” 

“But I don’t need her to be my mom,” Dawn sniffed. “I need her to be my sister.”

“She is. She’s also more. And she loves you. This is a big change for both of you, Dawn. Maybe give it some time before turning to the dark arts, yeah? 

Dawn gave him a watery smile. “Okay... I’ll talk to her.” 

“Good.” Spike took the jar and emptied the dirt back on the grave, smoothing the clumps of earth together. “Let’s get you back home before Buffy notices you’ve gone missing.”

“Are you going to tell her what I tried to do?” 

Spike shook his head. “No, but you’ve got to promise me you won’t try anything like this again.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Then I won’t tell.” They walked back to his car in silence. Spike stopped at a trash can outside of the cemetery and tore the book in half before tossing it inside. 

“It belonged to Willow,” Dawn said, sliding into the passenger side of the car. “I think she wanted me to find it.” 

Spike drove toward their home, keeping his eyes on the road. “Yeah? What makes you think that?” 

“I asked her and Tara about, you know, and Tara was totally against it. Willow seemed... she wasn’t upset. Then the book moved, and I saw it.” 

“I see,” Spike said with a renewed sense of anger. 

“Are you going to say anything to her—because I didn’t mean to--"

“It’ll stay between us.” His voice was tight. “You’ll have to go up to your room the way you got out,” he warned once he parked the car. 

"You don’t have to worry about me. I know what I did was stupid… I won’t—anyway, thank you," she said before climbing out the car. 

++++

Later that night, Buffy lay awake, unable to quiet her mind long enough to squeeze in a few hours of rest. Even though the funeral was over, there were other things she still had to do—accounts that needed to be closed or transferred, stuff with her mom’s gallery. She had named her the beneficiary until Dawn turned 18. Now it was up to her to find a buyer. Buffy didn’t have the slightest idea of how to go about selling an art gallery. Then there was Dawn. They weren’t out of the frying pan yet. Joyce’s death was another reminder of how easily things could change. Giles could train and prepare her for the apocalypse, but no handbook could prepare her for this. It was too bad no one had ever written a manual for daughters who’ve lost their mothers. 

Restless, Buffy slipped out of bed and into the darkened hallway, leaving Spike to sleep soundlessly on the narrow mattress. She usually slept better with him lying by her side, but that night Buffy couldn’t rest, her thoughts focused on Dawn. They had spoken very little since before the funeral, partially because she had no idea what to say to her. Buffy crept down the hallway to Dawn’s room and found her sleeping on her side, body curled around one of her favorite stuffed animals. Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her sister’s hair.

“Buffy?” Dawn asked groggily somewhere between sleep and consciousness. 

“It’s okay, Dawn. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“I was awake,” she said, sitting up. “I tried, but I....” 

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked, concern etched across her face.

“Yes. No. I just have trouble sleeping now.” 

“Me too.”

They were silent for a moment before Dawn spoke again. “I didn’t know… you seem so… you seem fine.” 

Buffy let out a short, sardonic laugh. “I wish I was ‘fine.’ I guess I’ve just been keeping myself busy…” 

“Why?” 

Great question. She had to stay busy, or she’d fall to pieces, and for both their sakes, she couldn’t do that. Buffy studied her sister’s face. She was just a girl, they both were, and now they had to navigate life without their mother. Death was easy to handle when it wasn’t someone you loved, but Joyce’s death had a finality that Buffy was sure would stay with her for the rest of her life. 

“Please talk to me, Buffy. I’m your sister,” Dawn pleaded. 

With tears in her eyes, she said, “I have to do these things because if I don’t, she’s... she’s really gone. I’m trying to take care of things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, Dawnie. Mom always knew... and sometimes I want to ask her, then I remember she’s gone, and it’s like she died all over again.” 

“You don’t have to be mom,” Dawn whispered. 

“If I don’t, then who is? Who’s going to make things better? Who’s going to take care of us?” she asked, voicing all of her fears to Dawn for the first time. 

“Buffy…” Dawn took her hand. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. I was just afraid that you’d see how terrified I am of failing you.” 

“But you’re not! You’re not. I’m afraid, too. But it isn’t as scary because I have you. I was afraid I was losing you…” 

“Never.” Buffy used the back of her hand to wipe away unwanted tears spilling from the corner of her eyes. “I’m here, Dawn,” she said, her voice breaking.

Dawn wrapped her arms around Buffy’s waist, squeezing her tightly. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Buffy. We can be afraid together. It’s okay… it’s okay for us to be afraid.”

++++ 

Spike lay still as Buffy slid out of bed and left the room. He could hear her and Dawn talking, their voices muffled through the closed doors. Not wanting to intrude on their private conversations, he turned his thoughts inward, recalling what Dawn had attempted to do earlier that evening. Spike had kept his promise, he wouldn’t tell Buffy, but he was still concerned about Dawn’s state of mind. He couldn’t fathom where she could get the idea that she’d be able to perform a resurrection spell with no prior knowledge of magicks. And the magic it took to bring someone back from the dead was seriously treading on the dark side of the force. If he hadn’t been there to stop her, who knew what might have happened. 

“How is she?” he asked when Buffy returned to bed. 

“Better, I think. We needed that talk.” 

“Good. Didn’t want to meddle in family business, but I’m glad you did.” 

“Me too.” Buffy snuggled against him. “I’ve meant to talk to you, too.”

“About?” 

“Everything.” Buffy turned around to face him. "I don’t think I could have done this without you. I can’t thank you enough for everything." 

“No thanks necessary, love.” 

“But they are. You don’t know how much you mean to me, Spike. How much I depend on you.” 

Spike cupped her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb. “Not sure what to say, Slayer, other than I love you.” 

“I know you do, and I…” she paused for a moment, adding, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

Spike’s heart leaped in his chest. That was the closest she’d ever come to saying, “I love you.” He hadn’t realized until just then, exactly how much he longed to hear her say it back. “Yeah?” He managed, his throat tight with emotion.

“Yes. I’m still trying to process everything, but I know that I care about you a lot, and I want you in my life.” 

“Buffy…” he said, closing his eyes. “Feels good to hear you say that, love. The other night with Angel… I was worried,” he admitted in a quiet voice. 

“Angel will always be a part of my past. But he is in the past.” 

“I hear you, Slayer, but I know in your eyes my chip doesn’t--“ 

Buffy placed her fingers over his lips, hushing him. “There was always good in you, Spike. It’s there, so strong it doesn’t need a soul to come out,” she said, laying her palm over his heart. “It took me a while to notice, but I see that now. I see you now. You are a good man, William Pratt, and I’m glad to have you in my life just as you are.” 

Awestruck, Spike gazed at her in mute silence. He couldn’t believe his ears. “I don’t know what to say…” 

“You don’t have to say anything. Just hold me.” 

Nodding, he gathered her in his arms again and held her through the night. 

++++

Spike waited until after sundown to venture onto UC Sunnydale’s campus. He had given Buffy an excuse about needing some things from his crypt, and she had even cleared out some space for him to store his clothes—there wasn’t a lot. Seeing her closet made him want to branch out, but a new wardrobe was the least of his worries. He hadn’t forgotten the stunt Dawn had pulled the previous night and wanted to ensure that Willow didn’t get any more bright ideas when it came to Dawn. 

He spotted the witch walking across campus alone and stopped her. “Willow.” 

“Spike, what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing around. 

“Just came to have a little chat. Let’s have a sit,” he said, guiding her to a nearby bench. 

“Talk? About what?” 

“About what Dawn tried to cook up the other night using one of your spell books.”

Willow’s eyes darted nervously to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I think you do. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Willow was silent for a moment. Swallowing audibly, she said, “She had questions. I didn’t think she’d try to- to do that.” 

“Right, you didn’t think. It never occurred to you once what an impressionable young teenager would try after losing someone they cared about because that never happened before.” 

Willow stood up and inched away from him. “Don’t come to me on some high horse because you suddenly think you’re one of the good guys now. Dawn tried to do a spell--" She bristled in anger. 

Spike rose to his feet, joining her so they were almost on eye level again. “A dangerous spell. She’s a kid. She’s got no business foolin’ around with that stuff.” 

“I was a kid!” 

“Yeah, you were. An inexperienced kid who also has no business messin’ with that kind of power.”

“Yeah? Well, if it wasn’t for my ‘messing around’ Dawn might be dead. Buffy, too. Dawn may be a kid, but I’m not. I am powerful, and you better watch who you piss off,” she said, lip curling into a sneer. 

Spike locked eyes with hers. He’d never seen Willow like this before—all brash and threatening. She’d always been one of Buffy’s friends, hanging right there in his peripheral. Tonight, he had witnessed a different side of her. Spike wondered if he was the only one who had noticed her transformation from bumbling teen witch to the beginning stages of addiction. He recognized a junky when he saw one. 

“And you better watch what you’re teachin’ Dawn. I reckon Buffy wouldn’t appreciate her kid sister experimentin’ with forces she doesn’t understand.” 

“I’ll have a talk with her,” Willow said defiantly. 

“Don’t bother. I’ve already taken care of it and the book.”

“You destroyed my book?” 

“Yeah. Best be glad that’s all I did.” He stepped forward, his movements intentional. “I promised Dawn I’d keep this between us. Buffy has enough to worry about,” Spike added, walking away. 

++++

Glory was back. She had finally clawed her way back to the surface after spending weeks trapped away while Ben got to live it up. He had no idea that stabbing Jinx would wake the beast and ultimately give her enough of a push to resurface. But that wasn’t the best part. The best part was knowing that her key was out there, masquerading as some useless human. It was so close she could almost taste it. 

Now all she had to do was wait until they patched Jinx up, so she could hear the whole story straight from his scabby mouth.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I fell behind with posting again. Chapters 20-23 coming now.

Buffy was starting to feel like a human again; she credited Spike for her reemergence into the real world. He kept her busy, helping to muddle through the more complicated aspects of settling her mother’s affairs. And when Spike wasn’t helping her with all the legal stuff, he took care of running the house: packing Dawn’s lunch for school, fixing dinner, and even assisting Dawn with homework. He also took over patrolling at night. 

“It’s called bereavement, pet,” he had assured her one day when she was feeling down about slacking off. 

Buffy appreciated Spike's presence in her life. He made things better, Buffy thought as she puttered around the house, taking care of some light chores. Turning on the radio, she chased away the silence with an uptempo pop song. She preferred the sound of music over the deafening silence throughout the house. With Spike gone for the day, she’d been left alone with her thoughts. She was washing the morning dishes when the doorbell rang, interrupting her. 

“Giles,” Buffy greeted her Watcher with surprise. She stepped aside and let him into the house. 

“How are you and Dawn?” he asked, following her into the kitchen. 

Buffy switched off the radio and dried another dish. “She’s… better, I think. And I’m okay… some minutes are harder than others.” 

“I’m so sorry. All I can say is i-it will get better.” 

“It has to. We’re holding up though, you know, getting into a routine. Spike’s been a big help.” 

Giles glanced around. “Is he here?” 

“No, he’s out. It’s just me today.” 

“Well, I’m glad he’s been here for you,” Giles said thoughtfully. “And routines are good. In fact, I thought we might return to our training routine.” 

Buffy had given little thought to training. With Spike taking over her nightly patrols, she hadn’t done much slaying either. Fighting—killing—drained her. “I don’t know. I was, um, thinking about... maybe... taking a break or something. Not go into full slay mode.” Buffy folded up the dish towel and walked into the living room. 

“But you were doing so well,” he said, following behind her. 

With a sigh, Buffy sat down on the sofa and looked at Giles. “Was I? I don’t know anymore, Giles. I know what I’m called to do, but now with mom gone, I can’t run into the fray anymore. Dawn needs me more than ever now. I need to concentrate on taking care of her.”

“All the more reason to train,” Giles countered. 

He was right, of course, he was right. Evil didn’t stop because she was grieving. Still, Buffy worried that no matter what she did, it would never be enough. “I know… I guess I’m just afraid of what all that training was doing to me as a person.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like it was turning me to stone. I don’t know. To slay, to kill... i-it means being hard on the inside. Maybe being the perfect Slayer means I can’t love. I already feel like I can hardly say the words. I know I didn’t tell my mother nearly enough.”

“Oh, but she knew, Buffy. She knew.” 

“I don’t know…” Her head was full of doubt. “I’m great at slaying, but sometimes I don’t even feel human anymore.”

“Buffy…” Giles rose to his feet.

Going with her gut, Buffy stood up with him and said, “Giles, I love you. Love... love, love, love, love, Giles, it feels strange. It feels strange to say those words, and it shouldn’t,” she said, thinking of Spike. 

On impulse, Buffy wrapped her arms around her Watcher, squeezing tightly before letting him go again. She felt both strange and relieved at the same time. Buffy had never said those words to Giles, but it felt important for him to know before it was too late. 

“You’re afraid that you’re becoming too hard, less human.” 

Buffy gave him a hesitant nod. 

“There’s something I read in the Watcher’s Diaries… a quest. It’ll help you find answers. Some Slayers found it helpful in... regaining their focus, learning more about their calling. There’s a sacred place in the desert. It’s- it’s not far.”

“A quest?” Buffy raised a questioning brow. “That sounds like it’ll take more than a few days. I’m not leaving Dawn, not with Glory still out there.”

“Leaving me where?” Dawn said, letting herself into the house through the kitchen door. 

“Giles wants to take me on a quest,” Buffy explained. “But I can’t go.” 

“If you have to go, then go... I mean, if it’ll help you out. I think you should do it. Spike can watch me. He practically lives here anyway.” 

Buffy gave Giles a nervous glance before wrapping her arms around Dawn. “I love you, Dawn. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I love you, too.” 

“No, I really love you.” Buffy continued to hug her. 

“Okay, getting weird now,” Dawn said, squirming out of Buffy’s embrace. 

“Sorry. But it’s important that I tell you. Weird love’s better than no love.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Giles said with a smile. “We’re going?”

Buffy nodded. “I’ll let Spike know tonight, and we can leave first thing tomorrow.” 

++++

“Did you really order everything off the menu?” Dawn asked, reaching for a carton of Kung Pao chicken. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much food.” 

Spike chuckled and opened another container and took a sniff before setting it aside. “Guess we went a bit overboard,” he said, taking inventory of the counter now loaded down with to-go boxes.

Dawn inhaled her food and joined him at the table. “I wish Buffy was here…” 

Grabbing a pair of chopsticks, he said, “Me too, pet.” A sad smile pulled at his lips. 

Spike understood why Buffy had to go on her quest with Giles, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Selfish as it was, he missed her already, and she’d only been gone a few hours. After seeing her off, he and Dawn had puttered around the house before he suggested ordering takeout. Because they hadn’t been able to decide what they wanted, Spike had ordered almost everything on the dinner menu, delighting the owner of China Chow. 

“I wonder what they’re doing out there.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, plucking up some beef with broccoli with his chopsticks. 

Spike listened to Dawn talk about her day while she did most of the eating. After dinner, they packed away the leftovers, and Dawn suggested they go out for dessert. He recognized her desire to get out of the house. He and Buffy had kept a close eye on her since the funeral. Spike glanced outside the window. He hadn’t heard any news about Glory in weeks. It was as if she had disappeared. Spike hoped so, though he doubted the hell-bitch would up and leave without her key. 

He’d thought a lot about their situation over the past weeks, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea for the three of them to disappear, just take Dawn and go. Spike knew Buffy wouldn’t be too keen on that idea, but he didn’t see any other way that didn’t involve one of them dying... again.

And he’d do anything to prevent that from happening, even if it meant taking on Glory by himself. Spike had planned on running the idea by Buffy once she returned from her quest with Giles. He’d already mapped it out. They had the DeSoto and some cash from the sale of Joyce’s car, enough to get them to Mexico or Canada. After spending a century blending in with the shadows, he was good at getting lost. But if she insisted on the whole gang tagging along, he knew a guy. Just gotta do some convincin’, Spike thought as he drove toward the center of town. 

“So, I’ve wanted to thank you,” Dawn said, breaking the silence. 

“For?” He raised a questioning brow. 

“The uh, other night and you know, for everything else… things are better when you’re around.” 

Spike coughed, sputtering a few nonsense sounds before regaining his composure. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Never thought I’d hear somethin’ like that on the ‘count of me.” 

“Why not?” Dawn gave him an incredulous look. 

Spike responded by cocking his head to the side. 

“Okay, so you used to want to kill us and stuff, but you haven’t been that way in a long time. You’re good now… Buffy couldn’t love you if you weren’t.” 

“You think she loves me?” 

Dawn nodded. “It’s so obvious. It’s just taking her a little longer to say it. And as for the others… they’ll come around. Xander used to have a huge crush on Buffy, you know. He gets kind of jealous whenever any new guys come around. He’ll get over it. Besides, he has Anya now.” 

Speechless, Spike stared at Dawn for a moment. Yeah, there was a reason he had always liked her, even when he tethered the line between good and evil. 

“When did you get to be so smart?”

“Since always.” Dawn flashed him a cheeky smile. 

They settled for ice cream at a small shop near the Espresso Pump. Spike relaxed as Dawn ate a sundae with all kinds of teeth-rotting toppings while he people watched. He doubted they’d have a run-in with Glory, but he kept his guard up just in case the hell-god decided on an evening stroll through town. Buffy had left Dawn in his care, and he took that responsibility seriously. 

“Hey, look, The Magic Box is still open. Wanna go say hello to the gang?” Dawn asked after she finished her dessert. 

Spike recalled his last few encounters with Willow and Xander and said, “Not particularly.” 

“Come on. They’re only mean to you because they don’t really know you.” 

Spike doubted dropping by for a chat would make a difference. Years of bad blood had soured any chance of a friendship between him and the Scoobies. But as long as he had Buffy, he was okay with that. Spike glanced over at Dawn, noting the hopeful expression on her face, and sighed. 

“Oh, all right,” he grumped as they crossed the small intersection.

“Dawnie!” Xander greeted the teen when they entered the shop together. “And Spike,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Harris,” Spike replied, trying at civility. 

“Whatcha working on?” Dawn asked as she followed Xander to the back of the store where Willow and Tara huddled around April the robot. 

“Willow is attempting to reprogram Warren’s sexbot,” Anya answered for them. “She hopes to use it for good, instead of kinky fun.”

“Ahn,” Xander warned. “Ixnay ithway ethay exsay alktay.” 

“Please, most girls were already married with a brood of children back when I was Dawn’s age.” Anya crossed her arms over her chest.

“Uhm, she’s right, you know,” Dawn interjected. “Besides, Buffy and Spike kind of filled me in on the details.” 

“Buffy and Spike had the sex talk with you?” Xander asked with horror in his eyes. 

“Ew, no!” Dawn shivered in disgust. 

Spike stepped forward and studied April’s cold, plastic face. Even under Willow’s work lamp, she still held an uncanny resemblance to a human girl. Spike had to admit that he was kind of impressed with Warren’s work. “So, you think you can get all that junk out of her hard wiring?” he asked Willow. 

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing up at him before returning to her work. 

Spike watched Willow’s computer screen with rapt attention, even though he could not decipher the strange coding. He thought about pulling her aside again, so he could apologize. Not for what he'd said, but how he had approached her. After all, she was Buffy’s friend, and perhaps Dawn was right about the Slayer’s friends being more receptive to him if they got to know him better. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh with her the other night—he was concerned. Yeah, most of it had been for Dawn, but Willow's dabbling in the dark arts worried him. She was important to Buffy... so she became important to him, too. 

“I think this is it…” Willow murmured, reattaching April’s CPU, and crossed her fingers. 

Tara placed her hands on Willow’s shoulders and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “You got this.”

“I hope so. This tech is... it’s a lot more advanced than any of the programming classes I’ve ever taken, but we’ll see.” 

“You’re way smarter than that git, Red,” Spike added, extending his olive branch to her. 

Willow gave him a shaky smile before powering the robot on again. Spike turned his gaze on the robot and watched with cautious anticipation as she booted up. A few moments later, April’s eyes popped open. 

“Hello, Scoobies!” the robot greeted them.

“Uh, April,” Willow said, stepping forward. “Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes, you are Willow Rosenberg. You are Buffy’s friend and a lesbian.” 

Spike stifled a chuckle behind a fake cough. “Now we have two of them,” he whispered. 

April angled her head to look at Spike. “I know you. You’re Spike. You used to be an evil vampire, but now you have a chip in your head that makes you as harmless as a baby kitten. And you are Buffy’s boyfriend.” 

The smirk slid off Spike’s face as he glared at Willow through narrowed eyes. “Harmless kitten, really?” 

“I hope Buffy is a good girlfriend to you, Spike. Warren always says that a good girlfriend takes care of her man and never talks back.” 

“That's a weird thing to say,” Dawn said, making a disgusted face at the robot.

Spike’s gaze shot past April and landed on Willow. “What’s all that?” he asked, raising a brow. 

Cringing, Willow said, “There are still some kinks with the programming. Sorry, I thought I got all that stuff out when I rebooted her. I’ll keep working on it.” 

“But the good thing is that she won’t go around hurting people, and maybe we can use her t-to help Buffy,” Tara said. 

Spike gave April a quick once over. “And how’s that? Does Buffy or Giles know about this?” 

“Well, Giles asked me to look at her, and I’m sure Buffy wouldn’t mind the extra help with patrols. I replaced all that—“ Willow glanced at Dawn, stammering, “that sex stuff with some kick-ass moves.” 

“I let her borrow a few of my video games,” Xander interjected with a proud grin. “She’s going to be a lean, mean fighting machine.” 

“Literally,” Anya added, moving to stand beside him. “Although, I’m not sure given the last debacle we want a fighting machine on the loose.” 

“Don’t worry, guys, she’s only hard wired to hurt demons and stuff—kind of like with Spike’s chip. I also introduced parts of the Slayer Handbook into her programming. So, she’s essentially a robot version of--" 

“Buffy,” Spike finished for her. 

This could work, he thought, warming up to the idea. April could pick up the slack on patrols, or Buffy could even take her out on the heavier nights. Or better yet… If he could convince Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies to skip town with him, they could leave April as a diversion. 

“Buffy is the Slayer. She saves the world a lot,” April said, finding her way back to the conversation. “And now I am a Slayer, too. In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the demons and forces of darkness.” Her lips curled into a bright smile. “Willow, is it time to slay now?” 

“Well, I—“ Willow looked around with a sheepish expression on her face. “I wanted to give the programming a few more passes before we took her out for a spin, but I guess tonight’s a good enough time as any.” 

“Oh, that would be cool! Spike, can we go? Please?” Dawn asked, looking at him for approval. 

He didn’t see any harm in it. Between him and the witches, Dawn was pretty insulated. And he was curious about the upgrades in her programming himself. “Yeah, if it’s safe.” 

“It should be. If anything glitches, I can shut her down,” Willow assured them. 

“I am ready to slay now. It’s a beautiful night for killing evil things,” she said to Willow. “Vampires of the world, beware.” 

++++

Glory stretched her body across her plush red chaise lounge and admired her legs. Humans sucked, but as far as bodies went, she had lucked up in that department. Even Ben wasn’t too bad to look at. Although being trapped as a man for weeks made her feel less than generous toward her brooding brother. 

“I’m losing control of him,” she muttered loud enough for Jinx to hear. 

“You’re speaking of Ben, most glamorous but tasteful one?” 

“He stabbed you in your body. He could have killed you,” she pouted.

“But I’m all right now, your highness,” Jinx replied, mistaking her comment for concern. “And we have the new knowledge that the key is a human being.” 

It’s been right under our noses this whole time, Glory thought, suddenly annoyed with Jinx again. What’s the point of surrounding yourself with a bunch of sycophantic minions when they couldn’t even get that teensy detail right? If she’d known her key was shrouded in human form, she would have found it ages ago. 

Glory sat up and narrowed her eyes at Jinx. “That’s all well and good, but if time runs out on us and all we’re left with is info, then we’re screwed.” 

“Oh, surely, not!” Jinx said, his body quaking. 

“Don’t you get it, puke-face? We’re screwed!” 

“But you’re a god,” Jinx replied, his tone pacifying. “They are afraid of you, most delectable one.” 

Glory sat up again. She knew when she was being placated, and she didn’t like it. “I’m a god in exile. Far from the hellfires of home and... sharing my body with an enemy that stabs my boys in their fleshy little stomachs,” she said, jabbing her finger into Jinx’s wound, making him moan in pain. 

Ignoring him, Glory sifted her hands through her hair in frustration. “Can’t you see I’m in pain here?” she whined. 

“What can I do, Glorificus? How can I help? I’ll lay down my life for you. We all will,” Jinx said as he scrambled to her side and dropped to his knees. 

“Oh, get up.” Glory rolled her eyes and waited a moment before speaking again. This was important. She needed Jinx and all her minions to understand. If she didn’t get her key back soon, she’d be trapped in this dimension, forever doomed to walk the earth as nothing but a puny human. “The Slayer and the key are connected. She’s going to have contact with it. Find out who’s new in her life, who’s... special, who’s different. Watch her.”

Jinx’s crusty face broke into a wide smile. “Oh, yes, mistress. I have been watching the Slayer. I believe--" 

“I want to hear about everyone she has contact with!” Glory cut him off. “That girl has my key ... and I’m trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me… you’ll get it for me.” 

“Oh, we shall, our benevolent liege.” 

++++

Spike trailed behind April with Dawn at his side. He was interested in finding out if the bot was up to snuff, especially if she was going to take Buffy’s place. He knew she was only a temporary fix to their Glory problem, but if the robot could hold her own, it would give them enough time to get Dawn someplace safe. 

“So, April, sensing any vamp action?” Xander asked the robot, jogging beside her. 

“You are Xander. You are Buffy’s friend and a carpenter,” she replied. 

Spike gave Dawn a skeptical glance. Perhaps he was putting too much faith in the robot’s ability to blend in. 

“I’m still working on trying to get her to sound more… human,” Willow explained as if reading his thoughts. “When I reprogrammed her, I had to remove most of her core intel. I'm pretty much rebuilding her from the ground up. The good thing is, she learns the more she interacts with people. I suppose Warren designed her that way so she could… be a better girlfriend." 

“Her catalog of positions was impressive,” Anya interjected. Xander cleared his throat and gave her a look. “I mean, that Warren is a weird little man.” 

“Warren was my boyfriend.” 

Growing increasingly bored with all the geek talk, Spike said, “All right, let’s see if we can scare up some action. See what the bot can do.” 

“Uh, right. Let’s hide. We’re probably scaring all the vampires away,” Willow suggested with a nod. “April.” Willow stepped in front of her. “We’re going to go over there,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction. “You can wait here and look out for vampires.” 

“And when they come, I will slay them.” 

“Right.” 

“Bit, why don’t you take cover with Red and Tara. I want to stay close just in case the bot needs an extra pair of hands.” 

“Okay,” Dawn agreed with no protest and jogged over to Willow and Tara’s hiding place. 

Spike ducked behind a small mausoleum and observed April standing poised with a stake in her hand. He took a step backward and bumped into something behind him. Whipping around, Spike came face-to-face with a pair of trolls. 

“Begging your pardon,” one demon greeted him while the other took a tire iron to his stomach. 

Spike let out a startled sound and glared at them. “What the—“ he ground out. 

“Be careful with him. She wants the key intact,” it said. 

Spike felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, and his vision dimmed as he crumpled to the ground. The demon hit him again with the tire iron across his face, knocking him on flat on his back. 

“Tie his hands!” Spike heard one of them say. “Glory will want the key retrained.” 

Groaning, Spike tried to sit up, but the pressure on the back of his head clouded his mind and fell back against the grass. 

++++

When Spike came to, he found himself chained to the ceiling in Glory’s apartment. His eye was swollen from the hit he had taken to the face, but he could make out the hell-god and her brood of minions. They were watching him with interest as he came to, coughing up blood. 

“I can’t believe you thought this vampire and his stupid bleached hair is my precious key,” Glory sneered at Spike. “Lesson number one, vampires equal impure.” 

Glory stalked toward Spike with a crazed look in her eyes that made him nervous. “Yeah, damn right I’m impure. I’m as impure as the driven yellow snow. Let me go,” he said with false bravado. 

“But, your holiness, we observed the Slayer. She protected this one above all others. She treated him like her precious,” Jinx protested.

Glory looked over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Spike. “Really, her precioussss?” Glory rolled her eyes and gave Spike a disgusted once over. “Let me take a peek at you, precious.” 

“Sod off,” he spat. 

“Impure and rude.” And she backhanded Spike across his face. 

Stars danced in front of Spike’s eyes. He hadn’t been hit that hard since his last encounter with the hell-god; it reminded him of her strength again. Spike winced as he swallowed more of his blood. He knew what was coming next. She was going to torture him until he told her where to find the key. Never gonna happen, bitch, he thought. He’d die before he’d ever betray Dawn to Glory.

“He doesn’t look very precious to me,” Glory snarked, grabbing Spike by the face. She squeezed his cheeks, nearly crushing his jaw between her fingers. 

Flashing her a woozy grin, he said, “Watch the lip, bitch.” 

Glory laughed and wagged a finger in his face. “Manners,” she scolded. “I wonder what’s so special about you, vampire, if the Slayer is protecting you. You know what they say; looks can be deceiving.” Glory bit her lip and trailed a long red fingernail down his chest, ripping open his shirt. “Maybe there’s something on the inside. That. I. Just. Can’t. See.” She teased his navel with the tip of her nail before thrusting it inside of his stomach. 

Spike screamed as she wriggled her fingers around. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grit his teeth against the pain. 

“What do you know, precious? What can I dig out of you?" Glory wiggled her fingers in front of his face with glee.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Twinkles for all your help! Any remaining errors are mine :)
> 
> This chapter brings us to the close of "Intervention." I borrowed some dialogue from the episode. I really hope you enjoy the changes that I've made this time around. Warning for explicit content in this chapter. I also modified the rating just to be on the safe side.

Love brings you to your gift.

Death is your gift.

Buffy ruminated on the First Slayer’s cryptic message the entire ride back to Sunnydale. “Death is your gift”? What was that supposed to mean? Buffy looked down at her empty palms, and a deep frown creased her brow. Her hands were made for death; she used them to slay—to kill—but she wouldn’t have called that her gift. Singing, dancing, being good at math, those were gifts. Slaying… that was her destiny. 

“Buffy… is everything all right?" Giles asked with a look of concern in his eyes. 

“Just thinking about how my quest wasn’t so quest-y.”

“What do you mean?” 

Buffy recalled her time in the desert with the Slayer as her guide and breathed out a long gush of air. How did one explain to her watcher it had felt more like an acid trip—not that she knew what that was like—than a spiritual quest for enlightenment? She had walked away from the experience more confused than ever. 

“I saw the First Slayer again… or her avatar or something. I’m not too sure on how these things actually work. Anyway, she said death is my gift. There was also a mountain lion. So, either I’m preparing to give the world’s suckiest Christmas presents this year or there’s something in animal print in my near future. Either way, color me confused,” Buffy huffed. 

Stifling a chuckle, Giles responded, “The guide isn’t prophetic, Buffy. It will often speak in riddles, but I don’t think they’ll be any animal print in your near or far future.” 

“God, I hope not.” Buffy blew some stray hair out of her face. “I know I’m acting silly; I just hate it when these things make big with the cryptic messages. Why does everything have to be in weird coded language? Just give it to me straight, no chaser.” 

“I’m sorry you didn’t find this exercise more helpful,” Giles said. Disappointment reflected in his eyes. 

Buffy’s lip poked out as she studied her Watcher. “It’s not your fault, Giles. I guess my mind wasn’t open enough to receive the message.” 

“I’m sure it’ll come to you when you least expect it.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, forcing a smile. 

They drove in silence for a few miles, letting the sound of the road fill in the gaps where conversation lapsed. Buffy rested her forehead against the window and watched the desert fly by in a blur of open skies and muted earth tones. She wanted to tell Giles that she had gotten something out of their trip. The First Slayer had confirmed that she wasn’t dead inside; she was full of love. Death was her gift, but so was love. All she had to do was tap into that love to harness her gift. Maybe that’s what she was trying to tell me? Buffy thought. 

“I wonder how everyone faired without us,” Giles pondered, breaking the silence. 

“Me too. It seems like whenever you’re not around, all hell breaks loose.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Giles’s lips tilted into a half-smile. 

“Oh, come on, you know we aren’t the best at adulting. That’s why we need you, our voice of reason. The stalwart Watcher of the Slayer and her friends.” 

Giles turned his head to look at her. “I’m glad you find me so useful. I had wondered,” Giles said, his tone dry. 

Buffy giggled softly and rested her head against the seat. “It’s true, though. We need you—at least I do. I don’t know how I could have made it through these past few weeks without you here. Between you and Spike… I…” Buffy dropped her head. “I’m just really glad you stuck around.” 

“I’m not quite sure what to say other than… that means a lot to me.” 

“I love you, Giles.” Buffy paused, her expression thoughtful. “Hm, it gets easier every time I say it.” 

++++

“Look who’s back from her quest,” Buffy said as she stepped into the foyer of her house. 

The moment she crossed the threshold, Dawn rushed from the living room and into her arms, squeezing her into a tight hug. “I haven’t been gone that long, have I? Giles, please tell me we didn’t get sucked into some weird time vortex.” 

“It’s Spike,” Dawn said, letting her go.

Buffy took in her sister’s red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. “Spike? What’s going on.” A worried knot formed at the pit of her stomach as her mind went to the darkest places of her imagination. 

“We think Glory’s minions took him last night,” Xander filled in. “By the time we realized he’d been taken, they were already gone.” 

“Spike is a vampire and your boyfriend.” April joined them in the foyer and took her place beside Buffy. “We were slaying vampires,” she said. “But I didn’t see any demons.” 

Buffy’s mouth parted in disbelief. Blinking her eyes, she did a double-take, noticing the robot for the first time since entering the house. “How?” Her eyes immediately flew to Willow. 

“It was gonna be a surprise. Giles asked me to take a look at April, and I thought I could reprogram her to help you with slaying and stuff. We took her out last night for a test spin, and Spike must have been attacked while we were taking cover,” Willow explained with a pained expression on her face. 

Buffy studied the robot for a moment and noticed April’s new outfit—blue jeans and a loose flowery top. She took a slow turn around the robot and stopped with their faces only inches apart. “You made a robot slayer while I was in the desert?” 

“You are Buffy, and these are your friends. My name is April; I am also a Slayer.” 

Shaking her head, Buffy turned to Giles. “Can she even—you know what, never mind. There’s a robot in my living room, and Glory might have Spike. Must be Tuesday.” 

“Hello, Guy-els. Are you my Watcher, too?” April said, approaching Giles with a broad smile plastered on her face. 

“Guy-els?" Giles raised a brow at Willow. “After all these years…”

Willow cringed and shot Buffy a nervous smile. “She’s still having trouble with unfamiliar words and names. I’m working out the kinks.” 

“Okay, let’s focus here. Spike is in trouble,” Buffy said. Ignoring the feeling of uncanny valley, she turned her back to the robot and crossed her arms protectively over her midsection. Now that the initial shock of seeing April in her living room had worn off, Buffy’s mind drifted as she imagined all the ways Glory was torturing Spike. 

I shouldn’t have gone on that quest. 

“I’m the Slayer. We have to save Spike before Glory harms him,” April interjected. 

“Robot-girl is right. God knows what Glory is doing to him. He could be…” Buffy couldn’t bring herself to say the words. What if Glory had killed him while she’d been out in the middle of nowhere trying to find herself? Buffy recalled the moment she had found Joyce, and her stomach lurched. 

“Spike’s not dead,” Xander said. “He’s always been good at saving his own skin.” 

“Now’s not the time, Xander,” Buffy warned him between her teeth. She had about enough of his snide remarks toward Spike. 

“I know you’re doing the whole trust the evil vampire thing now, but I’m still not convinced. He could be with her right now, spilling the beans about Dawn--” 

“While you all came running back here waiting for Buffy to show up to save the day,” Dawn cut him off, her eyes blazing. “I wanted to go after him, but they said we had to wait for you to come back. I know he didn’t tell Glory about me. He wouldn’t.” Dawn’s voice broke as she choked back tears. 

Buffy walked over to Dawn and pulled her sister into her arms, hugging her tightly. “They did the right thing, Dawnie,” Buffy admitted. “We have to keep you safe. But you’re right; Spike wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. He’d die first.” 

Blinking back tears, Buffy let her sister go and hurried to the foyer, grabbing weapons from her weapons chest by the door. Spike wasn’t dead. She couldn’t lose him; not before she told him she--

“For the record, we came back here to get weapons,” Anya said, from her spot next to Xander. “I tried to warn them that the likelihood of our immediate and horrible deaths was imminent, but they insisted that we go after Spike. So, it was a good thing that you showed up when you did. I doubt the robot would have stood a chance.” 

Buffy stared at Anya for a moment and frowned. Ignoring the ex-demon, she grabbed a short battle-ax and tossed it at April, who caught the weapon without blinking. “Robot or not, I’m going to get him back. You can either help me,” Buffy said to Xander. “Or stay behind.” 

“I’m coming, too,” Dawn said, grabbing a knife.

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here with Anya.” 

“But--”

Buffy held up her hand. “This is not up for discussion, Dawn. If Glory finds out about you, she’ll use you to get back home. And I can’t—I can’t lose you too.” 

Dawn let out a defeated sigh and moved next to Anya. “Okay.” 

Buffy tried not to think of all the time they had wasted when they could have been looking for Spike. Instead, she focused her energy on finding him. She still didn’t know where the hell-god was hiding out, but she had an idea. Buffy recalled the first night she and Spike went looking for Glory together. He’d been trying to get her attention that night, and it had worked. Despite their rocky past, she had taken the time to talk to him, let him in, and now she couldn’t imagine a life without Spike in it. Determined to get to him as quickly as possible, Buffy led the others tacross town. 

“Glory’s key-sniffing snake was right about here when I killed it,” Buffy said, stopping at the spot where she’d last seen the demon. “It was headed back to her.” 

“Do you think she lives around here?” Willow asked. 

“It’s not a lot to go on, Buff.” 

“I know, Xan, but It’s all we’ve got.” 

++++

This is getting boring. Torturing demons was never as fun as hurting humans. Even though vampires were low on the totem pole as far as demons went, they were much more durable than mortals and could withstand the pain she inflicted on them. She'd barely got a whimper out of the vampire chained to her ceiling, and that wouldn’t do. Annoyed, Glory tilted the glass of water toward Spike’s lips and watched in disgust as some liquid dribbled down his chin and dripped on her floor. She took in his battered face, bloody mouth, and the crimson gash above his eye—stupid, pathetic creature. It galled her that she had fallen so low; that she had to depend on a vampire to get her home. He'd refused to speak, but oh, when she was through with him, she’d make him sing. Then beg for mercy. 

“Is that better?” Glory asked with faux concern in her voice. “Do you think you can talk now?” 

Spike coughed and nodded his head. 

“Good, because I’m tired of these games!” Glory smashed the water glass against Spike’s cheek, breaking it into large sharp pieces. “‘I need time. I need a drink,’” she mimicked in a shrill voice. “You’re a very needy bloodsucker, aren’tcha? I gotta tell ya, vampire, it’s not very attractive.” 

Scowling at him, Glory grabbed Spike by his hair and jerked his head up so he could look her in the eye. “You’ve had your time and your drink. So talk.” 

His tongue darted from between his lips and licked some blood from an open wound. With a wan expression on his face, he looked at her and drawled, “Yeah. Okay. The key. Here’s the thing… it’s that guy on TV. What’s his name?” 

A frown creased Glory’s brow as she tried to think of any television personality worthy of housing her key. Why would the monks turn her key into a…? Wait a minute. “My key is on television?” Glory eyed him skeptically. 

“Yeah,” Spike wheezed in obvious pain. “That show. The prize show where they guess what stuff cost?”

“The Price is Right?” Murk said with delight. 

“Oh, it’s Bob Barker!” Jinx clapped his hands and hopped to his feet. “I love Mr. Barker. He’s so delightful.” 

“Very charismatic,” Murk agreed. “I wish they would play Plinko more often. It’s my favorite of the challenges.” 

“We will bring you Bob Barker!” Jinx said, turning his attention back to Glory. “We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Bark-”

“It’s not Bob Barker, you scabby morons. The key is new to this world, and Bob Barker is old as grit.” Glory turned around to look at Spike, her lips curving into a sarcastic smirk. “The vampire is lying to me.” 

Spike chuckled weakly and grinned. “Yeah ... but it was fun. And guess what, bitch. I’m not telling you jack. You’re never gonna get your soddin’ key, ‘cause you might be strong, but in our world, you’re a fucking idiot.”

White, hot heat spread across her chest. “I’m a god.” 

“The god of what, bad home perms?”

“Shut up!” Glory yelled, breathing fire down his throat. The hell-god moved closer to him, unconsciously patting down her curls. “I command you, shut up!” 

“Yeah, okay, sorry, but I just had no idea that gods were such prancing lightweights.”

Lightweight? Glory scoffed in disbelief. What did he know about power—genuine power—like hers? She’d been in the Hellmouth long enough to realize that anything he’d ever faced was clown shoes compared to her. 

“Mark my words, the Slayer is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass." 

Dismayed, Glory looked down at her butt, checking for any signs of lumps. I do not have a lumpy butt. I do pilates! 

Sizing her up, Spike continued his rant, his lips spreading into a wolfish grin. “Buffy’s going to toss you back to whatever place will take a cheap, whorish, fashion-victim ex-god like you.” 

That did it! It wasn’t enough that she was stuck on this mortal plane, trapped in a human woman’s body… but the insults. No, she couldn’t abide by that, especially from some two-bit vampire with a bad dye job. Vexed beyond her tenuous control, Glory spun her body around, executing a kick to the center of Spike’s chest, accidentally freeing him. 

“Dammit!” she bellowed as Spike flew across the room and went crashing through the apartment doors. “Don’t just stand there looking at me! Bring him back,” she yelled at Jinx. 

++++

“Let’s check in there,” Buffy said, nodding at a luxurious-looking apartment building. It had enough curb appeal to attract a narcissist like Glory. And it was the swankiest building in the entire neighborhood. “It looks right up her alley.” 

Buffy raised her crossbow and stepped inside the highrise just as the elevator door flew open with a jolly ring of its bell. Buffy’s eyes widened in shock and relief when she noticed Spike slumped against the elevator’s wall. Heart pounding, she aimed her crossbow at one of Glory’s minions and released the arrow. It flew across the room, catching the demon in the shoulder. 

“Slayer!” it shouted before punching Buffy in the face. 

With no time to spare for any of her signature quips, Buffy kicked the demon down before ducking under a punch coming from her left side. Instinctively, she elbowed the second demon in the nose and landed a left hook across the jaw of another. Recovered, Murk rose to his feet and attempted to attack Buffy again. Ready for him, she kicked Murk before landing a flurry of body shots to his chest, stomach, and face. 

“Buffy, I’m here to help you and Spike,” April said, entering the building with Giles. 

Relieved, Buffy shoved Murk at the robot. “April, crush!” 

April let out a tiny growl and lifted Murk into the air before throwing him across the room. The demon landed with a heavy thud against the opposite wall and fell to the floor. Frightened by the robot’s strength, Jinx and the other minions ran toward the stairs, stopping to help Murk to his feet. 

“Buffy…” Spike wheezed from the elevator. 

“I’ll help him,” April volunteered. 

“No.” Buffy stepped in front of her and kneeled in front of Spike. 

Body broken, he rested his head against the wall, barely able to move. Buffy’s face crumpled as she ran her hands over his battered face. His eye was swollen shut, and there was fresh blood on his cheek. Her heart ached as she imagined the hours of torture he had endured while she’d been away. 

“Can you move?” she whispered close to his face. 

“Think so,” Spike mumbled incoherently. 

Buffy glanced up at the elevator’s roof, noticing the opened trapped door above their heads. Tears sprang in her eyes as she helped Spike to his feet. She wrapped her arms around his waist and walked him out of the elevator and out into the lobby where the others waited with looks of shock on their faces. 

“We should go,” Giles said, coming to her aid. “I don’t think we’ll have much time before Glory’s minions come back.” 

“I can teleport us back to the--” 

“No,” Tara and Spike said together, cutting Willow off. “I-I mean, don’t, Wil. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Yeah, what she said,” Spike panted. 

Buffy shot Giles a worried look and glanced around the mess they had made. They couldn’t stand around for too long. It was only a matter of time before Glory came looking for Spike, and she didn’t have the manpower to take the hell-god on and protect Spike and the others. They had to move fast. 

“Let’s split up,” Xander suggested. “If they don’t know where we’re going, they won’t know where to look for Spike.” 

“Good idea. Giles, you Willow, and Xander go back to the house. Get Dawn and get her out of there. The last thing I want is for Glory to go looking for us back at my house. She knows where I live, and that’ll be the first place she’ll look for Spike.” 

“Okay,” Willow said, glancing at Xander, who nodded in agreement. 

“Tara, you and April come with me.” 

“Of course, Buffy, whatever you need.” 

++++

They made it back to Spike’s crypt without incident, but Buffy couldn’t help the feeling of dread that had settled at the pit of her stomach. Spike was safe, but he had been so severely beaten that he could barely walk. At one point, April had to hoist him over her shoulder as they traveled through the underground tunnels that spread across Sunnydale until they reached his crypt. 

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Spike mumbled as April sat him on the stone sarcophagus at the center of the room. “I promise, Buffy, I didn’t--” he slurred. 

“Shh,” Buffy said and gently stroked his hair. She laid his head across her lap and ran the pad of her thumb across his bruised lips. “I know you didn’t—just rest. I’m here… I’m here,” she repeated over and over, rocking him in her arms. 

Buffy could tell he was in a lot of pain as soft moans and incoherent babble escaped his lips. He was still trying to assure her he hadn’t told Glory about Dawn. He had kept her secret—their secret—because he was in this with her. Tears stung her eyes as she looked down at his bloody face. She recognized his raw pain and could almost feel it herself. Buffy wished there was something she could do to ease his discomfort. She’d never seen any vampire at his level of injury before, and she hadn’t known it was possible to hurt a vampire as much as Glory had hurt Spike. The damage to his body was extensive, down to the broken bones and lacerated skin. 

“I-I could help him,” Tara whispered from across the room. 

Buffy looked up, her face ashen with grief and worry. For a moment, she had forgotten that Tara and April were still in the room. Please, Buffy communicated the silent entreaty with her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do. “How?” 

“I can heal him… I know I’m not as good as Willow. But I can try.” Tara took a hesitant step forward.

“Do whatever you can, Tara. He’s in so much pain.”

“Spike…” Tara’s features twisted empathetically as she wrapped her fingers around his arms and chanted an incantation under her breath. Her mouth barely moved as she whispered words of healing over Spike, mending his broken bones and closing up his flesh wounds. 

Buffy watched in awe as the gashes on Spike’s face stopped bleeding, and his skin began to heal. She glanced up at Tara, noting some color had drained from her face. She was sharing her life force with Spike so she could heal him. 

“I can’t—I have to stop,” Tara said after a few minutes. “I’m sorry.” 

Buffy shook her head, grateful for her friend’s sacrifice. “No, thank you, Tara.” Buffy looked down at Spike again. The bruising was still visible, but he looked marginally better than when she’d first seen him slumped over in the elevator. 

“I could get Willow to--” 

“It’s okay. He looks... he’s better. I can take it from here,” Buffy assured her. “Thank you.”

Nodding, Tara backed away from them and stood beside April again. “I’m going to go find the others. They’re probably at Xander and Anya’s. Willow and I put a protection spell over their apartment a few weeks ago after we did your house. I’ll let them know that you and Spike are okay. And don’t worry about Dawn, we’ll look after her. You two take all the time you need; I promise she’ll be fine.” 

“Thank you,” Buffy mouthed and watched Tara guide April out of the crypt. 

Alone, Buffy let the tears in her eyes fall. Once it hit her how close she’d come to losing Spike, she couldn’t stop them even if she tried. If she had shown up a minute too late, Glory would have killed him. He had refused to give her what she wanted and thus worn out his usefulness to the hell-god. A violent shiver traveled up Buffy’s spine as she recalled the sight of him lying against the wall. All it took was one pointy piece of wood, and he’d have been dead—gone forever without ever knowing how she felt about him. 

“Don’t cry, love. I’m all right,” Spike said when he regained consciousness. Reaching up, he rubbed a stray tear from her cheek. 

“I almost lost you today,” Buffy whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. 

Wincing, Spike sat up and gazed at Buffy’s stricken face. “But you didn’t. I’m here. You saved me, pet.” 

“What if I had been too--” 

Spike pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Don’t think like that. Don’t even say it. You found me in time, and now we’re here, safe as houses.” Spike looked around. “Or in my case, crypts,” he corrected. 

A reluctant smile pulled at her lips. “I’m trying to fret here, and you’re making jokes.” 

“It’s, ah--” he shifted in pain. “What I do. But how did I get here, anyway? Things are a little fuzzy after Glory’s torture bit.” 

“April carried you. You could barely walk, and she just lifted you like it was nothing.” 

“Knew that hunk of plastic was good for somethin’,” he said with a weak smile. 

“Tara helped, too. She healed you, but I think it took a lot out of her. They just left a few minutes ago.” 

“I’ll have to thank her when we aren’t running for our lives.” 

Another hesitant smile twitched at Buffy’s lips. Spike had been beaten to a near bloody pulp, and he still made time to find some levity in his situation. That was one thing she loved about him. Buffy’s eyes grew wide as the realization took shape in her mind and flowed to her heart. 

“What?” Spike asked, tilting his head incredulously. 

“I love you.” 

“What did you say?” he stammered. 

“I love you,” Buffy repeated, her voice firm this time. “I’ve known for a while, but—today when I almost—I had to tell you.” 

Swallowing hard, Spike dipped his head and sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, love,” he said after a long pause. 

Buffy placed her hand on his chest. “Today, when I thought Glory killed you… all I could think is I never got to tell you… I never got to—“ Buffy’s voice broke before she could finish. “I never got to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Spike crushed his mouth over hers, sifting his hand through her hair as he drew her close. Buffy twined her arms around Spike’s neck, returning his kiss with equal fervor. Spike captured her earlobe between his lips and gave it a gentle tug before dragging his mouth down the column of her throat. Buffy shivered as his tongue danced along her skin, igniting her senses, lifting her higher. His hands, his mouth, she couldn’t get enough of him. His questing hands slipped between the waistband of her jeans and stroked the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs, bathing his fingers in her moisture. 

Buffy shook her head. “You’re hurt,” she whispered against his lips. Need surged through her everywhere his hands and lips touched. Buffy moaned into a shaky sigh; she wanted his weight on top of her. She wanted him, hard and full and deep inside her. 

“I don’t care.” The words rumbled through his chest. 

She blinked, and they were down in his room, frantically undressing each other. Buffy pushed his jeans past his waist and down his thighs, freeing him. Her body ached for him as she straddled his lap and positioned herself to take every hard inch of him when he stopped her. 

“Tell me again,” he said, sifting his hands through her hair. “I need to hear you say it, Slayer.” 

Naked and raw with desire, her gaze locked with his. “I love you,” she rasped and sank on top of him. 

Buffy’s eyes widened as her body stretched and expanded to accommodate him. Twin moans escaped their lips when she pressed her knees against his hips, adjusting her position. Her lips parted as she rocked forward in one hard motion. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved against him with increasing force. Spike groaned and fell back against the bed as she slowly rolled her hips against him.

Buffy dug her nails into his chest as he caressed her back and gripped her ass as she rode him. A ragged breath escaped her lips as Spike raised his head and flicked his tongue over her nipples until they stiffened into hard, dusky peaks. 

“God, you're perfect,” he ground out and curled his tongue around one tight crest, sucking it between his lips. 

Buffy felt each corresponding tug of his mouth deep within her core. Moaning, she pressed him closer and threw her head back in ecstasy. No, what he was doing was perfect. Her body jerked as the first wave of her climax seized her. 

“Not yet,” Buffy pleaded. She wanted more of him. 

Rearing up, Spike covered her mouth with a rough kiss and switched their positions. Skin slapped against skin as he rolled her beneath him and reached between her thighs. He touched her, stroking the moist, sensitive flesh with his thumb before his fingers delved between the silken folds. Buffy sighed as he covered her body with his. She opened for him as he plunged forward, reaching deeper than he’d ever gone before. Buffy worked her hips against his, and her breath hitched as she neared fulfillment. She was almost there, reaching, reaching for that perfect angle. Buffy planted her feet on the mattress and lifted herself to meet each powerful thrust, pressing her fingers into his hard, round ass, guiding him even deeper into her heat. 

“You’re so wet… so...” Spike panted. “I can’t—“ he groaned before capturing her lips again, devouring her. 

Buffy cried out his name as the second wave seized her, pushing her over the edge. Her teeth found Spike’s shoulders as she lifted her hips one last time to meet him. His hands found hers, and their fingers laced together as they came simultaneously. Tears eked from the corner of Buffy’s eyes. Embarrassed, she quickly brushed the unwanted tears away before he could see them. Buffy had never felt weepy during sex before, but then again, she had experienced nothing like that with anyone else. 

Spike rested his forehead against hers as Buffy caressed his muscular back and sighed in repletion. 

“Am I too heavy?” 

Buffy shook her head. “No, you’re perfect.” 

Chuckling, he kissed her nose and rolled to his side, bringing her with him. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear a few moments later. 

Buffy gave him a heavy-lidded smile and rested her cheek against his chest. “I love you, too,” she replied, closing her eyes. 

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearin’ you say that, pet.” 

She planted a kiss on his chest and drifted off to sleep. “Well, I better keep saying it then.”

++++ 

Buffy ran her hand through Spike’s hair, twirling his blonde curls around her fingers as he rested his head on her thigh. They had spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between holding each other while the other slept. Buffy wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the first time they had made love, but neither made any effort to move. Tara had sped up his recovery time, but he was still sore from the many hours Glory had tortured him. Still, he insisted that he was fine, but she saw the discomfort in his eyes while they rested. 

Closing her eyes, Buffy allowed herself to relax knowing they were safe for now. Glory didn’t know where to find Spike, but he wasn’t her target. She wanted the key. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spike asked, breaking the silence. 

“That I’m glad we’re safe. And you’re here with me.” 

“Me too, love. Me too.”

Shifting, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Buffy ran the tips of her fingers along his muscular arms until she reached his hand, then trailed them back up again. She angled her body so she could see his face. Eggplant colored bruises had formed around his eye and under her jaw, breaking Buffy’s heart all over again. 

“I hate that she hurt you,” Buffy whispered into the darkness. 

“But I’m fine now,” Spike dismissed. 

“I know… but you’re still in pain.”

His lips tilted into a gentle smile, and he smoothed the worry lines from her brows. “You did a good job making me forget.” 

“Right, by pouncing all over you.” 

“Trust me, love, I’m not complaining. Please pounce away. I won’t mind at all.” 

“You’re incorrigible. You know that?” 

Spike let out a faux sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good to know. Had myself worried there for a moment.” 

Buffy laughed softly and snuggled against him. “You always do that.” 

“What?” 

“Make me smile even when things are bad.” 

“I love to see you smile,” he said, running his thumb over her lips. “Makes this life worth livin.’ 

She tilted her lips into a smile just for him. A few months ago, Buffy would have laughed if anyone had told her she’d be lying in bed with Spike, but now she couldn’t imagine it any other way. Spike was a part of her now, just as much as she was part of him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Twinkles for all your help! Any remaining errors are mine :)
> 
> This episode touches on events in "Tough Love." I borrowed bits of dialogue from this ep. Additionally, I slowed things up this chapter, adding some slice of life and a domestic Spuffy (which is my favorite kind of Spuffy). 
> 
> I also want to thank everyone for reading and for all your lovely feedback. Your continued support of my story fuels me to keep going even during my roughest weeks. I look forward to getting notifications that someone left me a comment, and the likes are the icing on the cake! If I haven't said it enough, thank you!

Ben stood in Doctor Shepard’s office with a white packing box in his hands. The chief of medicine looked up from his desk, his expression somber as he noticed Ben for the first time. Ben had no intention of pleading his case. After several weeks of constant “no call, no shows,” he didn’t blame the hospital for letting him go. Well, not entirely. Thanks to Glory, he had missed a major surgery, and Dr. Shepard had no choice but to fire him. Still, his heart had dropped when he found Mack, their security guard, waiting for him with the contents of his locker in a white box by the entrance. 

“Doctor Shepard, I know there isn’t anything that I can say that could ever make up for missing Tuesday’s surgery, and--“ 

“It wasn’t just Tuesday,” Doctor Shepard said, his face grim. “I don’t doubt your ability to practice medicine, Doctor Wilkerson, what I doubt is your desire. Ever since you’ve joined my staff, you’ve been absent more than present. I understand that you have some ongoing family issues, but when it affects my patients, I have to put my foot down. You’re a good doctor when you show up. But the problem is that I don’t know when you’re going to show up.” 

Ben swallowed, shame coloring his cheeks. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a quick click of his teeth—he had no excuse. Sorry, Doctor Shepard, I share my body with a hell-god bent on returning to her dimension. Sometimes she takes over for days and weeks at a time. Yeah, like he’d ever believe that. But even if he could explain Glory to the Chief of Medicine, the damage was done. She had ruined him. There was no way anyone would hire him after this. He’d been fired from several other hospitals, and Sunnydale had been his last chance to practice medicine and have a career. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish things could have ended differently.” 

“I agree. Perhaps medicine isn’t the road for you. Either way, I wish you luck in your future endeavors.” 

Nodding, Ben exited the office with his head low and his eyes trained on the floor. He walked down the sterile hall, ignoring the stares from his former colleagues as he made his way back to the front entrance. Once he was outside, the embarrassment melted away, replaced by anger. 

“I hate you,” Ben spoke out loud to Glory. “This is so unfair. You’re taking everything away from me. Everything I worked for, I earned, I care about. These are my choices, this is my life, and you’re ruining it!”

He shoved the white box in the backseat of his car and slid into the driver’s side. The hospital loomed in front of him, a reminder that his future had slipped away again. Tears burned his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove to his apartment on the other side of town. Glory had taken everything away from him. No matter how hard he tried to suppress the hell-god, she always resurfaced. He had lost count of the many times she had ruined his life. Sunnydale had been his last chance, and now he didn’t even have that anymore. There was nothing left for him. He had no job, no friends, nothing that tied him to the small California town. Ben thought about moving back to Seattle. He had a friend from medical school who had recently opened his own practice and was looking for a partner. Maybe, he thought dejectedly. 

Ben glimpsed his reflection in the rearview mirror and slammed a fist into his steering wheel. It wasn’t fair! All he wanted to do was help people, and he couldn’t do that with Glory living inside of him, corroding his soul. He could move back home, start all over, pretend to live a normal life, but he’d never escape Glory. He was powerless against her. 

“Is this what you want!” he shouted. “You win! Okay... you win,” he added faintly, choking on his tears. 

The light turned green again, and Ben made an illegal u-turn. Nothing belonged to him, not even his body. Ben realized that pretending to live a normal life was pointless. Maybe he’d been going about everything all wrong. Perhaps it was time to face the truth, he thought, bringing his car to a sudden halt outside Glory’s apartment building. He could try to fight her, but he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of trying to be something he was not. 

Ben looked at the expensive high rise and frowned. Heat rose from his stomach and burned his throat as he slammed the car door behind him and marched inside the lobby. The minions let him into Glory's penthouse with gleeful smiles in their coal-black eyes. 

“We have been expecting you, sir,” Jinx said, guiding Ben into the apartment. “We knew it was only a matter of time before you realized the magnificence of our Glorifucus.” 

“I shall tell Glory of your sacrifice. It will not be forgotten,” Monx exalted. 

“Yeah,” Ben said, dejectedly. “Sacrifice.” 

++++

Buffy sat in front of Principal Avery and wiped her damp palms down the sides of her jeans. It had been a few years since she had sat in the principal’s office, and it brought back all the unpleasant memories of Principal Synder—although Mrs. Avery reminded her more of Flutie. Still, the principal stared at her with a grim expression on her face, making it clear to Buffy that she had dropped the ball with Dawn.

“Like I said, Ms. Summers,” Principal Avery said once Dawn was out of the room. “Your mother was a lovely woman, and we all miss her. I know this is a hard time for you—both of you—but I cannot allow Dawn to continue down this path. I have to consider her truant.” 

Buffy frowned as she tried to process what the Principal said. Truant? That sounded serious, especially because Buffy watched Dawn leave for school every morning and come home every afternoon. She even had Spike help her with homework every night. Except, she’d been lying the entire time.

“As an educator, I am a mandated reporter,” Principal Avery continued. “That means I’m obligated to call these things in, Ms. Summers. I know you’re young, barely out of high school yourself, and taking care of Dawn is an enormous responsibility for someone your age. But as her caretaker--“

“Call in? Buffy interrupted, confused. 

“To Child Protective Services. Truancy falls under educational neglect of a minor.” 

Buffy swallowed hard. “Neglect? Principal Avery, I know this looks bad, really bad, but I’m trying to do the best I can to take care of Dawn. I had no idea she'd skipped school. But if I did, trust me, I’d be on top of it. I—I will be on top of it. I promise I’ll make sure she’s at school every day on time—no, early!” Desperation tainted her voice, making her sound frantic. 

“Well, that would be great, but—“ Mrs. Avery leaned forward, her expression empathetic. “Have you thought about contacting your father? Maybe it would be best for Dawn to go live with him and finish out the rest of the school year under his care.” 

Buffy laughed. The sound bubbled out hysterically. Live with their dad? That was like tossing Dawn into a vamp nest and expecting her to fend for herself. Okay, maybe not that bad, but she couldn’t live with their father. Her blood ran cold, imagining life without her sister in it. She needed Dawn as much as Dawn needed her. 

“No,” Buffy said once her laughter subsided. “I mean, that isn’t really an option. My dad travels a lot,” Buffy explained. “The last time we spoke with him, he was in Spain.” 

“Oh.” Mrs. Avery sat back in her chair. “Do you have any other family members that can step in and help?” 

Buffy shook her head. “It’s just the two of us. But I can take care of her, Principal Avery! Now that I know what she’s been up to, I promise it won’t happen again.” 

Conflict brewed behind the Principal’s gray eyes. “All right,” she said after a lengthy pause. “I can tell that you care about your sister a great deal, Ms. Summers, but—I expect Dawn to be at school on time every day. She must also make up any missed assignments.” 

“Thank you,” Buffy breathed, relief flooded her cheeks. 

“Don’t thank me yet. I won’t call in a report this time, but if Dawn misses even one day of school, you’ll leave me no choice.” 

“She won’t! I’ll make sure of it.” 

++++ 

Dinner time was awkward that night as Buffy, Dawn, and Spike sat around the kitchen table. Buffy had filled Spike in on her meeting with the Principal, and the two of them decided to talk to the youngest Summers girl about skipping school. Buffy had thought about bringing Giles into the conversation—he had just the fatherly vibe she needed—but Spike had convinced her to handle it on her own; with his support. 

You can do this, Buffy silently coached herself as she cleared the dinner dishes from the table. 

“So… on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?” Dawn asked, breaking the silence. 

Buffy’s eyes darted toward Spike, and he gave her a slight nod. “I’m not mad at you,” Buffy said, taking her seat beside Spike. “I’m disappointed.”

“You sound like mom.” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Good. I mean—good.” Buffy settled on the description, squaring her shoulders. “Why did you lie to me, to us?” 

Dawn looked down and shrugged. 

“We can’t help if you don’t talk to us, pet,” Spike interjected. “I know losing your mum has been hard for you. But if you keep missin’ school, they’ll take you away from her.” 

“What?” Alarm widened her eyes. “Who’ll take me away?”

“Child Protective Services,” Buffy answered. “Principal Avery promised she wouldn’t call this time, but she warned me she’d have to call the next time you miss school. I, uh, looked into it… you could go into foster care or a group home if there aren’t any family members that can take care of you.” 

The color drained out of Dawn’s face as she looked between Buffy and Spike. “But it’s not like you’re hurting me or anything.” 

“It’s called educational neglect,” Buffy explained. She had looked into that as well. “And they can take you away from me for that too.” 

“Oh.” Dawn looked down again. 

“S’ why we need you to be honest with us,” Spike said. 

“I don’t know why I skipped school,” Dawn muttered. “I guess I didn’t want to be there. It just seems so stupid now, you know.” 

At a loss for words, Buffy looked to Spike for some guidance. She knew she should give her sister some grand speech about the importance of education. Still, she totally understood how Dawn was feeling. She’d felt that way, too. 

“I get it,” Buffy empathized. “Nothing seems as crucial anymore. But I need you to go to school every day, Dawnie. Please.” 

Sighing, Dawn replied, “I know. And I will, I promise.” 

“Your sis tells me you’ve got homework that needs turnin’ in,” Spike confirmed, and Dawn nodded. “I’ll help you get caught up. Every day when you get home from school, we’ll work on it together.” 

“And you’ll come straight home from school,” Buffy said. She swallowed hard before adding, “And you’re grounded.” 

Dawn’s head snapped up. 

“No television during the week or hanging out with your friends,” Buffy said in her best mom impression. 

“Okay.” Dawn’s voice sounded small. “This sucks,” she said as she left the kitchen and went upstairs to her room. 

Alone with Spike, Buffy’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That went better than I had hoped.” 

Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her on the forehead. “I knew you could do it, Slayer.”

“I guess that makes us officially parents now.” 

“Us?” Spike raised his brow. 

“Uh, huh. You’re in this with me, mister.” 

“You know that I am,” he said between kissing her lips.

++++

Spike stood in front of Buffy, his chest bare as she examined the yellowing bruises on his ribcage. It had taken him longer to heal than usual, but then again, he’d never been beaten that badly before. It was an experience Spike had vowed never to experience again. Still, getting beaten had its perks, he mused, as Buffy ran delicate fingertips over his skin. He liked the care and attention he received from her—it was like all of his best fantasies come true. Only better because she was real, and she loved him back. 

He often thought about the night in his crypt when she told him she had loved him, his mind drifting to the quiet hours when they had lain awake talking. That had been the best night of his life, despite the pain he’d been in. She loved him. 

“They’re looking much better,” Buffy said, and wrapped fresh bandages around his torso. “I guess I’ll have to retire nurse Buffy soon.” 

Spike grinned and shook his head. “Oh no, pet, I suspect I’ll be needin’ nurse Buffy again real soon.” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

Buffy smiled and ran her hands down his chest. “Then, I’ll make sure not to hang up my nurse’s hat just yet.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed to the bathroom with her bathrobe in hand. 

While Buffy was in the shower, Spike settled in bed and poured over the contract for Joyce’s gallery. It had been over a century since he'd last bothered with anything human, like business contracts and even money to an extent. And while it had been a long time, Spike realized that it truly was like riding a bike. 

“How’s it looking?” Buffy asked, climbing into bed beside him. 

“I’m liking it so far. That bloke your mum hired knows his stuff.” 

“Good! Every time I look at all that legal stuff, I go a little cross-eyed.” 

“It’s not that difficult, actually. But I was wonderin’ if you might reconsider selling it. I know Joyce put a lot of hard work into the gallery. It might be nice to keep something like that in the family.”

“Like an heirloom?” Buffy scrunched her nose with the question. 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Buffy was quiet for a moment. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a gallery. And now with Dawn and maybe going back to school…” 

Spike nodded. He still wished Buffy had spoken to him before withdrawing from her classes. He would have done everything he could to help her keep up with her studies, he thought, fondly recalling their late-night study sessions. 

“You could hire someone to take care of all of that—a curator to manage all the day-to-day operations. They’ll report to you, but there are people who can handle everything on the front end.” Spike saw the expression on Buffy’s face and added. “But it was just a thought.” 

“I know, and I’ll think about it and talk it over with Dawn. Half of the business is hers, anyway.” Sighing, she asked, “How do you know so much about contracts and all that business stuff.”

“Had some experience with it back in my day.” 

Buffy tilted her head, and a curious expression crossed her face. “You did? I mean, of course, you had a life before going all fang-y, but it’s hard to imagine you as anything else other than… well, you.” 

Spike chuckled and placed the documents aside. “It was a long time ago, pet. You’d hardly recognize me.” He hardly recognized himself. Spike tried to conjure up an image of himself back in his mortal days and gave a self-deprecating shake of his head. What a ponce. 

“Now, I’m curious. What were you like before?” 

Spike looked away from her and muttered, “you wouldn’t have liked me.” 

She raised her brow and gave him a knowing look. “Try me.” 

“It’ll bore you, but if you insist,” he said, launching into his history. “My folks were well-to-do. Cut from old money and respected. My father owned several businesses in London, and from the time that I was a young lad, he had groomed me to take up the mantle. Went to all the best schools. Even graduated from a few of them,” he added with a wink. “By the time I went on to Oxford Law, I was practically handlin’ all my father’s contracts.” 

Buffy stared at him with something akin to awe in her eyes. “You were a lawyer?” 

“Yeah, but it was mostly a title. Back then, I fancied myself a poet,” he said with a sheepish smile. 

Buffy tilted her head to the side again. “I can see it.” 

“You can?” Spike said, expression skeptical. 

“Yeah. Some things you’ve said to me are downright poetic—when they’re not dirty.” 

A mischievous smile inched along his face. “You like it when I talk dirty, huh?” And quick as lightning, Spike pinned Buffy to the bed. 

“Maybe,” she said, matching his grin. 

Pleased that she was no longer interested in his sorry past as a human, Spike leaned down and whispered, “I love that little whimpering sound you make right before you come. I get hard just thinking about it.” 

Buffy shifted beneath him and looped her arms around his neck. Her eyes shimmered with delight. “Oh, really? I would put that to the test, but… you think we could keep it quiet?” 

“I’m always up for a challenge,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. 

++++

“I’ve been thinking a lot about supply and demand,” Anya said the next afternoon while everyone hung around the magic shop. “You know how there’s only one Slayer—well, technically two, but the other one doesn’t really count seeing as she’s in the slammer—and she’s always like, ‘Oh it’s so tough being the slayer, woe is me—'“ 

“I will assume there’s going to be a point to this,” Buffy said, interrupting her. 

“Right, my point.” Anya gave her a sheepish laugh. “What if we could take what Warren did with the Aprilbot and create more of them, but this time to be little slaying machines. Sunnydale isn’t the only Hellmouth, you know. I bet those babies would sell like hotcakes. We could even call them slayerbots.” 

Buffy looked over at Spike, who was quietly helping Dawn with her geometry homework, and made a face. Mass marketing ‘slayerbots’ seemed much to Galactica for her taste. And if left to the hands of the Watcher’s Council, it could turn potentially dangerous. 

“That would be, uh—” Giles stammered, taking off his eyeglasses. 

“Not a bad idea,” Xander interjected. “Think about it, Buff. You could finally take that vacation you always wanted.” 

“I wanted a vacation?” 

Xander looked thoughtful for a moment. “Or maybe it was me that wanted a vacation. Either way, it’s not a bad idea.” 

“Right, until some wise-ass short circuits her. There is only one Slayer,” Spike said, looking at Buffy. “And she’s right here in the flesh. The Robot is a good diversion, but there’s nothing like the real thing.” 

Buffy smiled at Spike, warmed by his confidence in her. “It was a thought, Anya, and I appreciate your thoughts,” Buffy said, striving for diplomacy. 

The ex-demon smiled before turning her attention back to an old couple who had wandered into the store a half-hour ago and still had bought nothing. Buffy thought about April or some other robot-like her, taking over Slayer duties. Somehow, an army of super-strong women fighting the forces of evil seemed better in theory than in practice. 

“Even if it was possible to produce another bot, the technology needed is way above my paygrade,” Willow said. “Although I’ve been working with April more, and she’s learning a lot. Give it some time, and she’ll be ready to go slay on her own.” 

“That’s very good, Willow,” Giles said. “I’m sure Buffy and Spike could use the extra pair of hands. And you never know. Perhaps she may come in handy should Buffy have to face Glory.” 

Right, just because Spike had escaped Glory’s attack, it didn’t mean she had stopped looking for the key. Buffy was counting on the hell-god to increase her efforts now that she knew the key could be anyone in Buffy’s life. Although the monks had created fourteen years of history for Dawn, it was only a matter of time before Glory figured it out. 

“Speaking of our fashion-challenged hell-god, have you been able to find anything in your research that will help me beat her. Or at least send her skanky ass back to the hell from whence she came?” 

“Not yet, but I think I might have found something interesting that points to how we can defeat her.”

“Well, go on then, spill it,” Spike said, rising to his feet. 

“I can’t be sure it pertains to Glory just yet, but as soon as I know anything, I promise Buffy will be the first to know.” 

Satisfied, Spike retook his seat and resumed helping Dawn. The latter had been behaving uncharacteristically quiet ever since Buffy had picked her up from school. 

“Can I spend the night with Tara and Willow?” she asked out of nowhere. 

“No,” Buffy said firmly. “You know the rules.” 

“Right, you said, I couldn’t hang out with my friends. Willow and Tara are more like my cool hip aunts than my friends. Come on, Buffy, I’ve been doing really well. I haven’t skipped any days since last week.” 

“I’m sorry, Dawn, it’s a school night. Maybe this weekend, if all of your make up assignments are turned in and,” she emphasized the word, “all your homework is complete.” 

“Tara and I could help her with her school stuff, right hun?” Willow said, looking to Tara for confirmation. “We’re really good at good old-fashioned educational fun. You know me when it comes to school. I’m all like: go school, it’s your birthday! Or something to that effect." 

Expression stern, Buffy said, “It’s really important that Dawn gets her homework done, and she knows the rules about school nights.” They had made charts and everything. 

“Whatever.” Dawn stood up, and her chair scraped across the floor. 

“I’ll get her,” Spike said, following Dawn outside to the back alley. 

“Maybe a break for both of you might be good,” Willow hesitated. “Tara and I are going to the World’s Culture fair on campus. It’s educational-type fun in discipline-y type sort of way." 

“I know you’re only trying to help, Wil, but you don’t understand. I’m responsible for Dawn now, and I can’t mess this up,” Buffy said, gathering Dawn’s books in her arms. 

++++

The stutter was a nice touch, Glory mused. She had to admire the details those monks had put into her. The Quirks, foibles, passions ... it was all so cute, so... human. And she had been right there under her nose the entire time. Glory puckered her lips, then smiled, noticing some red lipstick on her teeth. She quickly wiped it away and admired her reflection in the mirror. Now that Ben had finally come to his senses and let her take the wheel, she could take her key and finally go home. Home. She could almost smell the sulfur in the air, envisioning herself shedding her human prison and returning to her former glory. 

She was so close that Glory could almost taste it. She smirked, spotting the girl—Tara—sitting alone on a park bench. Aw, poor thing must have been crying, she thought, noticing the splotchy skin and the sad look in her big doe eyes. Glory sat beside Tara and took her hand. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, crushing Tara’s delicate bones in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnote 1: Just some clarification, it would take a lot of absences for CPS to remove a child for "educational neglect" or "lack of supervision" for truancy. So, while Principal Avery was right that she is a mandated reporter, and should call CPS to make a report, I doubt it would have resulted in immediate removal from the home. CPS would more than likely developed a safety plan with the family, brought in a support system to help with the home, and put in some services such as a parent aid to help Buffy with her parenting skills. CPS is not the big bad wolf out to take people's kids. Alright, I'll get off my soapbox now.
> 
> Endnote 2: I searched and searched for any information Whedon or any of the writers may have provided about Spike's back story and couldn't really find anything concrete. So, I took some liberties. I always envisioned Spike as a lawyer who helped run his father's business because of his legal training. If you have any information about his back story, please let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Twinkles! I tinkered a bit, so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> This chapter follows "Tough Love" pretty closely, but I tried to put my own twist on familiar scenes. I also borrowed some dialogue from the episode. Let me know what you think in the comments!

Spike sat on the catwalk overlooking The Magic Box and poured over Bertram Munch’s catalog of Hell Dimensions. He ignored the hunger gnawing at his gut and flipped to the next page, then the next. Frustration clouded his vision as he read another useless passage. He’d been reading for hours and couldn’t find anything significant about Glory. Like the key, any hint of her existence was well hidden between vague descriptions and dead ends. 

“Sod it all!” he yelled, slamming the book down beside him. 

“What is it?” Giles asked, emerging from his office. 

“Nothing. A big fat bloody nothing.” 

Giles sighed and set his mug aside. “Perhaps a break is in order,” he suggested. “You’ve been at it for hours, and I don’t recall having anything to eat.” 

Spike looked away. He was feeling peckish, and the tedium of research wasn’t helping. The butcher shop was only a block away; he could get there and be back in fifteen minutes. And then what? Spike groused. Read another dry book written by some dead guy who had never heard of Glory? It was high time everyone faced the truth; they needed to get out of dodge. Spike recalled the many hours Glory had tortured him. He remembered one moment when the pain had almost become too much to bear. Spike winced with the memory of his weakness. He had been strong enough to withstand the shock, but what about the rest of them? He envisioned Glory getting one good lick in on Harris and the boy singing his heart out. 

“Not hungry,” Spike muttered, rising to his feet. 

“I know you’re anxious after—after everything that transpired between you and Glory. But we will find--"

“What? More bullshit riddles.” Spike descended the staircase and joined Giles on the first floor. “I nearly—!” He clamped his lips together and frowned. “She’s not gonna stop until she picks through the lot of you, until someone gives her what she wants. And if you don’t, she’ll kill you all. Buffy’ll listen to you, Rupert. She trusts your judgment.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“We run. We get as far away from Sunnyhell as our little legs will carry us.” 

Each word felt like acid on his tongue. Spike had never run from a fight before—well, except for that time with Acathla. But that was different. Deep down, he'd known the Slayer was going to win. This time he couldn’t be sure she was going to make it out of this alive, and it terrified him. He tried to mask his fear with glib remarks and optimism to boost morale. But facing Glory had put everything into perspective. 

“You’re suggesting we run?” Giles used his handkerchief to wipe his eyeglasses. 

“At least we’ve got a chance out there.” 

“I don’t--“ 

The door to the magic shop swung open, and Willow walked in. “Hey,” she greeted them with a sad smile. “Uh, did I interrupt something?” Her eyes bounced between the Watcher and vampire. 

“No,” Spike and Giles answered in unison. 

“Is something the matter, Willow?” 

“I had a fight with Tara,” she blurted, answering Giles. “And it was terrible.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Giles offered. 

Willow’s lip poked out. “Me too.”

Sighing, Spike shook his head. He’d table his discussion with Giles for another time. “I take it you and your bird don’t fight often, huh?” 

“Never until today,” Willow sulked. 

“Well, the good thing is that it’s over, and you both can move on.” 

Willow looked at Giles, and her face crumpled. “Over? How can it be over? I just found her. And what do you mean we can both move on? You think this is a phase, don’t you? Like I’m going to suddenly—“

“He means the fight is over, love. Now you two can make up and shag to your heart’s content. That’s the best part.” 

“Yes, well,” Giles stammered and walked to the rear of the shop. “Uh, you’ll feel better when you’ve made your apologies, and you’ll know that you can fight without the world ending. It all seems bleak now, but as they say, this too…” he opened the door leading to the basement and froze. “Shall pass.” 

Spike frowned and craned his neck, spotting one of Glory’s minions hiding behind the door. “Bloody hell, how long has he been there?” Spike growled. 

“Let’s find out, shall we.” Giles grabbed the minion by the ear and dragged him into the shop. 

“It’s one of Glory’s,” Spike offered. “Calls himself Slook, I think.” 

Giles shoved the demon into one of the empty chairs. “I recognized him from before.” 

“I do indeed work for the god. Let me go if you do not wish to incur her anger.” 

Spike rolled his eyes and grabbed Slook by the throat, applying enough pressure to let the demon know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill it. “Been there, done that. Now talk, you scabby little weasel.” 

“I will never betray our magnificent Glorificus. No matter what heinous torture. I shall die before--“ 

“Actually, you’re talking quite a lot, just not about the right things. Tell us why you’re here,” Giles said, looming over him. 

On cue, Spike gave Slook’s throat another squeeze. 

“No words shall pass these lips.” 

“Then maybe I should rip them off,” Spike seethed, recalling the night it had jumped him along with Glory's other Lord of the Rings rejects. Not feeling all that merciful at the moment, his grip tightened. 

“Get the rope off the counter,” Giles instructed Willow. “Let’s tie him up.” 

Slook shook with fear as Willow did what Giles had instructed, and with a trembling voice, the demon cowered. “No, no! I’ll tell you! Anything! Please! Whatever you want! Just, I’ll, anything!” 

“So much for undying loyalty,” Spike scoffed. 

Willow handed Giles the rope, and Spike watched as he tied the demon’s hands and feet to the chair. Impressed with the Watcher’s handiwork, Spike applied even more pressure to Slook’s throat. “Well,” he prodded. 

“I’m... I’m supposed to watch. We’re watching the Slayer’s people while Glory fetches the key.” 

Alarmed, a knot formed in the pit of Spike’s stomach. How? He thought frantically. How did she find out about Dawn? He had gone over every second of his time with Glory, and not once had he indicated that he knew who or what the key was. He had made a promise to Buffy that he would guard her secret with his life. He recalled the hours of torture Glory had inflicted on and tried to remember if there had been a moment of weakness. 

Wide-eyed, Willow said, “Glory knows who the key is?” 

“Dear Lord.” Giles removed his glasses, worry reflecting in his eyes. 

“I’ve got to go find Buffy,” Spike said, releasing Slook’s throat. 

“Too late, too late.” Slook let out a high pitch laugh. “Glorificus will find the witch, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her.” 

“Witch…?” Willow’s eyes met Spike’s as realization dawned on all of them. “Tara!” she said after a brief pause. 

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Slook continued. “The glorious one will have found her by now.” 

Spike felt a moment of relief before he guiltily shook it off. Dawn was safe—for now—but that didn’t mean he wanted Glory to harm Tara. He owed her a debt of gratitude and his life. 

Before anyone could stop her, Willow ran to the exit. “I have to find her.” 

Giles called after her, but it was too late, she had already disappeared through the door. “Oh, dear.” 

“Keep him here,” Spike instructed Giles. “I’ll get Buffy.” 

++++

“Don’t make a sound,” Glory warned. “You try anything, and you know I’d kill them. And her, and her, and him.” The hell-god’s eyes darted around the park. She smiled at a passing couple, her red painted lips parting to reveal perfect white teeth. She continued to squeeze Tara’s hand in hers, enjoying the quiet snaps and pops each bone made as she crushed them. She hadn’t felt this good in weeks—not even torturing the vampire had given her this much pleasure. “Isn’t it funny?” Glory casually asked Tara. “All these people and not a single soul who could help you. Makes you realize how truly worthless you humans are. But keys... keys, on the other hand, are worth a very lot.” 

Blood, warm, and moist collected between their joined hands, making Glory smile. Glancing down, she noticed a trickle of blood begin a slow drip down the side of Tara’s palm. She could smell the metallic tang of it and lifted their clenched hands to her lips. Her expectations were doused the moment the blood touched her tongue. Disgusted, she spat the mixture of blood and saliva on the ground next to her feet. Son of a fucking bitch! Her mind screamed in tortured agony. 

“You lying little tramp!” Glory yelled, unable to contain her anger. "You’re not my key. You’re nothing but another worthless human being.” 

“I didn’t--” Tara panted out, finally breaking her silence. 

“I hate being lied to. And you know what, I’m feeling kinda betrayed right now. And that’s all your fault, sweetheart. All you and your stupid little friends had to do was give me my key. Instead, you want to play these games.” An anguished expression twisted Glory’s face. “Well, I’m tired of playing games. All I want to do is feel better. You think you can help me feel better?” Tara’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Well, I think you can.” 

Leaning forward, she recognized the fear in Tara’s eyes and smiled again. Fear was good. Humans had a way of allowing fear to drive their decision making. “If you tell me where the key is, I’ll let you go,” she bargained, sweetly and gave Tara’s hand another squeeze, breaking more bones. “You think your hand hurts, imagine how it's gonna feel when my fingers are in that mousy little head of yours wiggling around. Oh, it won’t kill you,” she said, noticing the alarmed look on Tara’s face. “It’ll make you feel like you’re in a noisy little dark room, naked and ashamed.” She thought of all the countless hours she spent locked away in the recesses of Ben’s mind. While he was living it up, she was trapped inside that room alone with nothing but the monsters to keep her company. “And there are things in that dark room, pinching things that need to hurt you because you’ve been bad. They crawl in your ears and burrow in your skull,” she continued over Tara’s whimpering cries. “And you know in your heart of hearts that if they’d just stop, you’d remember how to get out.” 

Glory studied Tara for a moment, anger filling her breast all over again at the memory of being lied to. She hadn’t been around for long. She was the newest piece to the Slayer’s play set. She was supposed to be her key, the ticket to her homecoming, and the little slut had ruined everything. “But you never, ever will,” she said, finishing her rant with another squeeze of Tara’s fragile hand. “Who is the key?” 

Glory waited, expecting the witch to spill it all. Instead, Tara pressed her lips together and stared at her impudently, saying nothing. “Fine. Let’s go crazy.” Lovingly, Glory caressed the side of Tara’s face. 

“Tara!” 

Glory’s head snapped up as she noticed the other witch, the redhead with the tree name running toward them. Smiling with glee, she walked around the park bench and placed her hand on Tara’s temples. 

“By force of heart and mindful power, by waning time and waxing hour…” Willow shouted through the crowd. 

“Blah, blah, blah,” Glory mocked before sliding her fingers into Tara’s skull. “It’s so squishy,” she said as she wiggled her digits, caressing her warm, soft brain. Glory’s mind drifted to another place as her hands danced inside Tara’s head. For a moment, the screaming in her mind quieted down enough as wave after wave of peace washed over her. A soft moan, then a cry of pleasure escaped her lips, mingling with Tara’s screams of pain. Almost there, almost there, Glory thought as she pushed her hand even further into Tara’s brain. 

“That I love must now be free!” 

Glory heard the last stanza of Willow’s incantation and looked up in time to see her approach before all the sound vacuumed out of the air, and she was standing in a dark room, surrounded by nothingness. “No! Please, no!” Glory screamed as the monsters crawled out of the darkness again. 

++++

They waited outside of Tara’s hospital room for an hour before they were allowed to visit. Spike stepped into the room, and his eyes were immediately drawn to Tara, who lay in bed with a dazed expression on her face. She babbled incoherent messages to Willow while the witch tried her best to soothe the other woman. 

“I-i-it has to be verified, of course. Anyone can tell you that. Of course,” Tara jabbered, looking from one person to the next. “Of course, of course.” 

Her jumbled words reminded him of the rantings of a madwoman, of Dru. He listened carefully and tried to decipher her hidden messages. After centuries of living with Drusilla, Spike counted himself as an expert at decrypting her prophetic visions and poetic soliloquies. Still, nothing was anchoring Tara’s prattling to anything that made sense. 

“We can stay for as long as you need,” Buffy said, glancing his way for confirmation. 

Spike nodded. They would be whatever Tara and Willow needed. Again, Spike recalled Tara’s gentle kindness and couldn’t help feeling saddened by what Glory had done to her. 

“I’m so scared.” Willow’s voice was small.

Buffy placed her hand on Willow’s cheek, comforting the girl while Tara looked on confused. Spike turned his gaze toward Dawn, who sat in the corner of the hospital suite with a stricken look on her face. She stared at Tara for several long minutes before silently leaving the room. Spike followed behind her, stopping Dawn in the hallway. 

“What’s knockin’ around in that head of yours, niblet?” he asked, stepping in front of her. 

“She’s going to hurt all of us,” Dawn whispered. 

“No one is going to hurt you.” 

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and, with a raised brow, said, “Right. The same no one who hurt you.” 

“What? These?” He waved off her concern, diminishing his injuries. “It’s just a scratch. Nothin’ to write home about.” Spike reached over and placed his index finger under Dawn’s chin. “Hey, chin up, platelet. Don’t get scared. Your sister—none of us will let Glory hurt you.” I’d die first, he added to himself. 

Tears sprang to Dawn’s eyes before they fell silently down her cheeks. “You wanna know what I’m scared of, Spike? Me,” Dawn choked. “Glory thought Tara was the key and look what happened to her.” She nodded at Tara’s door. “But I’m the key, Spike. I am. And anything that’s happening to Tara is ‘cause of me. Your bruises, your limp ... that’s all me too. I’m like a lightning rod for pain and hurt,” she cried, tears falling in earnest. “Everyone around me suffers and dies. I... must be something so horrible to cause so much pain and evil.” 

Stunned into silence, Spike stood there for a moment as he tried to think of something comforting to say to her. After getting to know Dawn better, he had discovered that she was quite intuitive, deserving of the truth, and not some candy-coded platitude to make her feel better. “That’s rubbish,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I think you forget, love. I’m a vampire. I know something about evil. Trust me; you’re not evil.” 

“Well, maybe I’m not evil, but I’m not good either,” Dawn protested with a defiant hitch of her chin. 

Spike curved his lips into a slight smirk. “Well, I’m not good, and you still like me.” 

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not true.” 

“Which part? The not being good or you liking me?” 

“Shut up,” Dawn said, bumping him with her shoulder. "You know what I mean." 

“Now, enough of this wallowin.’ It’s up to us to be strong for Tara. Show her we got her back. Think you can do that for her?” 

Dawn nodded. “Yeah,” she said, squaring her shoulders. 

Spike followed Dawn back into the hospital room where Buffy and Willow were trying her best to calm Tara down again. Spike made eye contact with Giles and silently communicated his query with the Watcher. They couldn’t just sit around and wait until the next time Glory decided one of them was brain food. Well, two could play that game. The hell-god surrounded herself with those scabby little minions, Spike thought. What if they knew how to get rid of her or, at the very least, how they could hurt her the way she had hurt them? 

Is he still tied to the chair? 

Giles gave him a slight nod of his head. And with that, Spike slid behind Buffy and whispered in her ear. “I’ll be back.” 

“Where are you going?” she asked, turning around to face him. 

“Just gonna secure the perimeter around the house. Make sure it’s safe and all.” 

“Be careful,” Buffy said, pulling him into a brief hug. 

++++

Spike found the minion in the training room, cowering in the dark. Flicking on the light, he stepped menacingly out of the shadows and revealed himself to Slook. 

“Did my Glorifucus find her key?” Slook asked, glee bouncing in his black eyes. 

Spike smirked as he moved toward the demon. He was the predator, and it was his prey. “Earth may not be roses and such, but it’s a far cry from hell.” Spike looked around the room. "And since we're all still here…" He stopped at the weapons display on the wall and carefully selected his weapon of choice, a particularly nasty looking dagger, sharp and deadly. “She’ll never find it, you know—her key.” Spike leaned forward, his face close to Slook’s. 

“You may be strong with your rippling muscles and impeccable physique, but you are still no match for Glory.” 

“Oh, I know. Got the bumps and bruises to remind me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make her hurt a bit,” he said, stabbing the knife into Slook’s thigh, and the demon shrieked in pain. “Tell me how to make that bitch hurt.” 

“There’s nothing you can do. She is a god,” Slook panted. 

“You’re lying,” Spike said, pushing the knife in deeper. “Even a god can feel pain.” Spike yanked the knife out and held it up. The demon’s dark ichor glistened in the dim light. Spike stabbed its other thigh. “You will tell me... eventually. I could do this all night,” he said, giving up on resisting the darkness inside of him. His demon did backflips, thrilled with the prospect of hurting another living being. It felt like ages since he had let it go, freeing himself of the restrictions he had imposed on himself. Dru and Angelus would be so proud. 

“I don’t know... we are only here to serve the god,” Slook whimpered. 

“You worship her. You’ve got to know something.” 

Slook squirmed in his chair, eyes darting around the room. 

“You’re not leaving here,” Spike said, his voice deadly. “At least not in one piece.” Spike slid the knife deep into the demon’s gut. 

Slook screamed. “Only the sphere can harm that which cannot be named,” he murmured in his native tongue. 

“In English,” Spike commanded, annoyed. 

“The Sphere of Dagon.”

Spike twisted the knife. “What’s that?” 

“Created… by the… monks. It can… hurt.” 

Spike glanced down at the floor and noticed the steady drip of Slook’s blood for the first time. He tried to feel some bit of remorse, but couldn’t muster up any sympathy for the demon. It had made its choice when it aligned with the hell-god. He looked down at the minion again, and for a moment, Spike wondered what the rest of the Scoobies would think if they knew he had one of Glory’s minions tied up while he tortured it. 

“So this Dagon thing can hurt Glory…” Spike narrowed his eyes and moved closer to Slook until their noses almost touched. “But that’s not all. There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Slook shook his head. “I don’t know, please, I beg of you. I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Spike grabbed the knife again and prepared to give the demon something else to scream about. “I think you’re lying again.” 

Slook trembled and blurted, “And there’s the--“ He was interrupted by something upfront. 

Something clattered to the ground, jarring both demons. Spike’s head snapped toward the door, and he listened to the sound of someone frantically searching through the shop. “We’ll finish this when I get back. You sit tight.” 

Spike left the demon alone in the training room and headed to the front of the store where he saw Willow standing over one of Giles’s books, the pages seemingly flipping themselves by some invisible force. Spike looked around the store, then back at Willow, surmising her plan with one glance. 

“Red, what are you--?”

Willow jerked her head in Spike’s direction, meeting him with dark black orbs. “She has to pay.” 

He took a tentative step forward, sensing the wave of rage she sent in his direction. “And she will, but not like this. Buffy will--“ 

“Buffy? You really think Buffy can do anything about this? She’s almost died every time she’s faced her. So have you.” 

“And what do you think you’re going to accomplish, running off like some half-cocked Mary Poppins with your bag of tricks? I faced her, and I barely made it out alive.” 

“There you go, underestimating me again,” Willow spat. “You think I’m too weak, too human to face something like Glory. But I’m not.” Willow’s eyes returned to their natural shade of green as tears spilled down the side of cheeks. 

“Fine, go on then. Get yourself killed,” Spike retorted, moving in front of the door. “Fat lot that’s going to do your bird.” 

“Remember, my ‘bird’ saved your ass. Now, get. Out. Of. My. Way.” 

The air crackled around Willow as her bag closed with a resolute snap. Spike stood his ground, planting his feet firmly to the floor. He understood Willow’s thirst for revenge, and if it were any other bumpity-bump, he would have gladly stepped aside to watch her work. “No.” 

“Fine. Suit yourself,” she said with a wave of her hand, sending Spike into the glass display case.

“Bloody hell.” Spike shook glass from his hair and shoulders. He pulled himself to his feet and ran to the door, but Willow had disappeared. Spike glanced behind him, his thoughts traveling to the room in the back of the store. Slook was about to tell him more about Glory before Willow had interrupted them. Spike was eager to return to the training room where he had left the demon tied and bleeding to a chair. He looked between the exit and the back of the magic shop before dashing out the door. 

++++

“I should have known Willow would go looking for Glory. She’s been itching to get payback-y on her for a minute. But I thought I’d cooled her down a little. A lot,” Buffy said as she paced the living room. 

After the hospital had admitted Tara for overnight observation, she and Dawn had returned home for the night. Buffy glanced up, imagining Dawn safe in her bedroom. 

“Well, she was at the shop doin’ a damn good impersonation of the black-eyed children.” 

“The who?” Buffy asked in confusion. 

“It’s nothin’. Just an urban legend people tell around campfires. Anyway, I saw her packin’ her bag with all sorts of nasty goodies, eyes coal-black with vengeance in her sights.” 

“I don’t understand…” 

“I’ve been debating telling you, but I think Red has been dippin’ her toes in the dark end of the magic pool. Say goodbye to our cute little Sabrina; she’s turning into somethin’ else. And it’s either gonna get her killed or someone seriously hurt.” 

Buffy frowned. Spike was right. Ever since the “will be done" spell, Buffy had noticed the shift in Willow’s magical ability. She'd gone from harmless spells like floating pencils to full-on manipulating everyone’s actions. Even Tara had said on more than one occasion that Willow’s powers had grown, surpassing Tara on more level than one. Buffy recalled feeling vaguely worried, but with everything going on… 

“I know that’s not somethin’ you want to hear, but she’s got me worried. Some people get a taste of darkness and start to like it too much.”

“Speaking from personal experience,” Buffy snapped defensively, then shook her head with instant regret. Spike was only trying to help. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—this, this is Willow. She’s always been Willow, the predictable one.” 

“Maybe that’s just it. Somewhere along the line, she got tired of being ordinary and made herself extraordinary. She’s got a bestie with superpowers and wanted in on the action. Can’t blame her, really.” 

Buffy raised her eyes as realization dawned. “I’ve never tried to make her feel less than…” 

“Doesn’t matter. People are bound to feel how they feel. Now you’ve got one brassed-off witch high on dark magicks with a point to prove. But Glory ain’t the one to prove it too.” 

“It’ll be like committing suicide,” Buffy whispered. 

“For the right person. Person I loved, I'd do it.” Spike’s eyes bore into her. “But she actually thinks she stands a chance.”

Buffy nodded, understanding what Spike was trying to say. “Stay here with Dawn. If anything happens, you take her and run.” 

++++ 

Buffy sprinted across town as fast as she could, cutting through the park that bisected Sunnydale, and made it to Glory’s apartment in time to see her shove Willow against the wall. 

“Did you know they used to crucify witches in this dimension? Burn them at the stake and peel off their skin, bit by bit,” Glory said, lifting her knife to stab Willow. 

Buffy crept up behind the hell-god and grabbed her wrist. “Yeah, and they used to bow down to gods, too.” 

Glory turned, her cheeks puffing into a wide, cat-like smile. “Oh, look, it’s my human punching bag come to tag herself in.” 

Ignoring her, Buffy twisted Glory’s arm until she let go of Willow’s throat. Willow fell to the floor just as Buffy kicked Glory in the stomach and punched her in the face. Glory staggered back, and Buffy used that opportunity to kick Glory again, sending her flying into a sofa. Buffy ran over to Willow and helped her stand. She needed to get them out of there before Glory recovered. 

“Thicken,” Willow murmured and the air around Glory became gelatinous, rendering her immobile. 

Buffy grabbed Willow’s hand and ran toward the door. 

“This isn’t over!” Glory's voice echoed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike got a bit dark in this chapter, but I felt like it was within reason. He is a vampire who is fighting against his own nature after all. So, the demon is bound to come out and play from time to time. 
> 
> Also, I'm really bad about updating here. Please forgive my tardiness.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Twinkles! I sent this chapter to her last night and she had it ready by the time I opened my eyes. You da best! *In my DJ Khalid voice.*
> 
> This chapter takes us through episode 19 "Tough Love" and "Spiral" (ep. 20). It sticks pretty close to canon with little extra nuggets added by me. I also borrowed dialogue from both episodes. Thanks, everyone for your continued readership, likes, and comments!

“Here, grab his legs,” Giles instructed

Spike kicked open a red patterned Afghan rug, unrolling it across the floor before joining Giles on the other side of the training room. With a small grunt, he grabbed Slook by the ankles, and together, he and Giles tossed the demon unceremoniously on the rug. Spike looked down at the demon’s lifeless body and thought, what a waste. Yeah, he had learned about the Sphere of Dagon, but it had been on the cusp of spilling everything. If it hadn’t been for Willow going all The Craft back at the Magic Box, he might have gotten something useful out of it—like how to kill Glory once and for all.

Bending low, Spike rolled Slook between the folds of the Afghan and secured the body with rope. 

“Are you sure throwing it in the dumpster is wise?" 

Spike glanced down at the rug, then back at Giles. “Why wouldn’t it be? Sanitation comes for pick up every Wednesday. Beats the hell out of burying it.” 

“Yes, well,” Giles sniffed. “What if someone finds it and--and links it back to us?” 

Spike rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Listen, Rupert, I’ve disposed of my share of bodies in this town. Trust me, no one gives a toss about random bodies around here. Besides, do you really think Sunnydale’s finest would know what to do with this reject hobbit? Hardly. More’n likely they’ll blame it on some type of drug ring—PCP or somethin’—and call it gang-related."

“That’s reassuring,” Giles said dryly. 

“You’re overthinkin’ it, old man. No one will miss that thing.” He nodded at the body wrapped tightly in the rug. 

“What about Glory?” 

Spike considered the hell-god’s reaction and shrugged. “That might ruffle her feathers, but she treats them like dirt. Might not notice one of her little toadies has gone missing.” 

“All right then, let’s get him out of here before Buffy sees it,” Giles said, glancing guiltily at the door. 

Spike nodded, understanding why Giles was so jittery. While he hadn’t tortured the poor sod himself, Spike knew Giles felt some culpability in allowing him to kill the demon in his own backyard. It was one thing to kill a monster in combat, but another to tie it up and poke holes in it for hours, then toss it like yesterday's trash. Spike lifted the rug onto his shoulders and carried it to the dumpster outback. Once he disposed of the body, Spike returned to the shop where Giles was cleaning up Willow’s mess. 

“She could have gotten herself killed or put Dawn in harm’s way,” Giles said while stacking the books Willow had left strewn about the room. 

“Buffy told me she barely made it in time to save her," Spike added. 

“Thank God she did, but… I’m beginning to worry about Willow’s use of magic.” 

It’s about time, Spike thought. He was starting to believe that everyone was blind or daft. How many times did it take for Willow’s spells to backfire before someone said something to her? 

“Perhaps it’s time she and I talk,” Giles mumbled, glancing around at the disarray. 

“Might be worth a tick, but maybe hold off a bit, yeah? Red’s magic does more harm than good most of the time, but it could buy us a little time… especially if you all insist on staying in town.” 

“I’ve thought about what you said, and- and it holds some merit. Glory’s motive for finding the key is quite simple. She wants to return to her dimension, and her pursuit of the key has been rather relentless. She won’t stop until she finds it.” Giles returned the books to the shelf and stared thoughtfully at the tomes. “You’re right; we should leave town. With Tara… and everything else, I’m certain Willow’s stunt only caused more damage.” 

“I’ve bounced the idea off Buffy. I think I can persuade her to leave… at least until we figure something out. The hobbit told me something useful before he bled out.” 

“Oh?” Giles raised his brow in question. 

“The Sphere of Dagon. It’s the only weapon forged that can hurt her.

“That’s—that’s fantastic news,” Giles said, breaking into a grin. “I—we have one, right here in the shop. I saved it as a paperweight. Of course, I didn’t know its significance. But if Buffy can use it against Glory, she can beat her." 

“Yeah, maybe. But the runt specifically said hurt—not kill. And he might’ve lied. I would have.” 

The smile slipped from Giles’s face, replaced with a thoughtful scowl. “You’re right. We can’t take chances on the word of one of Glory’s minions. They are all loyal to a fault, and apparently at the cost of their lives. I’ll continue my research. Perhaps there’s something in The Book of Tarnis I’ve missed.” 

“Well, you keep searching, but I’m going to talk to her about it tonight.” 

++++

Buffy pulled back the blinds and stared pensively out the window, her eyes searching the dark streets for Spike. He promised he wouldn’t belong, telling her he needed something from the Magic Box. He’d only been gone a few hours, but Buffy couldn’t help the worry knotting her stomach. She glanced at the ceiling. Dawn was safe in her room, but how long would that last? Glory was going to strike again; this time, she'd got poor Tara, but who was next? 

Buffy recalled how confused Tara had looked when the nurses took her to the psych ward. After several close calls, it had finally hit home. Tara had become another one of Glory’s victims, and so far, Buffy hadn’t heard of anyone recovering from the hell-god’s brain-suck. Giles will figure it out. He always knows what to do. 

Buffy heard the roar of Spike’s car before he pulled into the driveway and jumped to her feet, opening the door just as Spike put his key in the lock. 

“I was getting worried,” she greeted him. 

“Yeah? No need to worry about me, pet. Was just out makin’ sure we’re safe. But there’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about,” he said while taking Buffy’s hand and leading her into the living room. 

Buffy took a seat next to him, warming his cool hands with her own. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she confessed. 

Spike nodded before he explained his concerns about staying in town with Glory growing more threatening with each passing day. Buffy listened, each word removing a weight from her shoulder as she realized that she and Spike were in total agreement with each other.

“There’s just something in my gut tellin’ me that layin’ low for a bit is a good thing. I know s’ not something you want to hear, pet, but--“ 

“I agree,” Buffy interrupted him and stood to her feet. “You’re right, and I agree,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. 

As much as it pained her to admit, she was no match for Glory. The hell-god was stronger and faster. The only thing the Scoobies had going for them was their sanity—and even that was broken now that Tara was in the hospital suffering from an apparent mental break. Glory wasn’t exactly a stable genius, but somehow she had backed Buffy into a corner. Part of her wanted to push back, fight against it… but at what cost? If she stayed and fought Glory, the price might be too heavy to pay.

“We’re not gonna win this,” Buffy spoke slowly, voicing her innermost thoughts aloud for the first time. “Not with- with stakes, or spells, or pulling out some uranium power core. She’s a god, and she’s coming for us. I don’t wanna be here when she comes knocking.” 

Spike looked at her with apparent shock and relief as he joined her at the center of the room. “I thought I’d have to do some more convincing.” 

Buffy shook her head. “I’m convinced. I think I’ve felt this way for a while, but I was afraid everyone would think I was a quitter.” 

“They don’t, and you’re not. You want to live. So do I and all the rest of them. No one is expecting you to save the world again, Buffy. You’ve done that enough, stuck your neck out too many times to count. We just want you to get through this. We’ll figure it out, somehow, someway.” 

Buffy shivered and gazed out the window. She was sure that Glory was across town at that very moment, thinking about her key, plotting her next move against them. This is the only way, she reminded herself. 

“We just need time,” she replied, reaffirming Spike’s words. 

“That and some wheels. I know a guy who can get us something big enough to get us all out of here.” 

“How much is it going to cost? I can get some cash from--“ 

“Don’t worry about it. This bloke owes me one. I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow, and we can be out of this town before nightfall.” 

“Where would we go?” Buffy asked, suddenly worried about the likelihood of outrunning Glory. She always seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

“North, South. Far enough from here that she won’t find us. I swear to you,” Spike said, gathering her into his arms. “I’m not going to let her hurt you or Dawn.” 

Buffy sank into his embrace, allowing Spike to comfort as they stood together. I need this, and I need him, she thought with a sigh and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I could ever thank you enough,” Buffy said, looking up at him. “These past few months have been so… harsh, but you’ve been here with me every step of the way. I don’t think I’ve ever really had that with anyone,” she whispered, thinking of Angel, then Riley. 

“And I’ll keep walkin’ this path with you, Slayer. Come hell or high water.”

Buffy closed her eyes as Spike tightened his embrace. 

++++ 

“We’ve got sandwiches,” Buffy greeted Willow at her door. 

Stepping aside, she let Dawn in first, then followed her into the dorm room where Tara sat listlessly on the bed. Buffy looked away and swallowed the lump in her throat. This is all my fault. If only we had left sooner.

“How is she today?” Buffy asked. 

“Better? The doctor gave me some tips on how to keep her calm. She’ll need a full psych evaluation, but with everything…” 

Buffy nodded and moved cautiously toward the bed. Tara looked up at Willow with questing eyes, and Willow nodded, silently communicating that Buffy was safe. “Hey, Tara,” Buffy greeted the other woman with a gentle smile. “Dawnie and I brought you something to eat. Sandwiches.” 

“There’s Tuna, Chicken Salad, Eggplant--that’s Buffy’s,” Dawn said, making a face. "And PB&J for me--unless you want it," she added, glancing at Willow for approval. 

“She likes chicken salad,” Willow replied with a sad smile. 

Buffy reached into the paper sack and handed Tara the sandwich wrapped in clear cellophane. 

“Plastic and their six sisters. Six sick sisters,” Tara babbled. “Willow?” She whimpered anxiously. 

“It’s okay. Let’s just start slow today.” Willow took the sandwich from Tara’s hand and carefully unwrapped it for her. 

“I can help,” Dawn offered, opening a juice box for Tara. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—“ Buffy winced. 

“It’s okay. I can do this. I’m going to take care of her. She’s my girl.” 

Buffy looked down at her hands. “Dawn and I didn’t just come here for lunch,” she began. “We talked it over, and we think it’s time to leave—all of us.” 

“Really? But we--“ 

“It’s no use, Wil. Glory is... she won’t stop until she gets what she wants, even if that means picking through all of us to find--“ 

The sound of crumbling plaster and debris blasted through the room, muffling Buffy’s voice. Buffy blinked her eyes in shock as someone or something pulled open the wall, exposing everyone in the room. 

“I told you this wasn’t over,” Glory said, appearing in the giant hole in the wall. 

Buffy instantly jumped to her feet, taking a defensive stance, blocking Glory’s view. 

Behind her, Tara grew distraught, talking in a loud, incoherent riddle while Dawn and Willow tried to soothe her. 

“Oh, look, it’s so pretty, pure green energy,” she breathed in awe as she pointed at Dawn. 

Everything in Buffy turned cold as she watched recognition light Glory’s eyes. This was it; this was the moment she had been dreading for months. A sick feeling formed at the base of her stomach, forcing bitter bile up her chest to the back of her throat. Swallowing, Buffy moved in front of Dawn protectively. 

“Oh, isn’t that cute,” Glory said with a gleeful laugh, and stepped forward only to stop mid-stride as if something was holding her in place. 

Using Glory’s momentary paralysis as a distraction, Buffy grabbed Dawn by the wrist and pulled her through the door. Now was not the time to fight; they had to run. Hand in hand, they sprinted down the hall and through the lobby before pushing through the front door. Students milled around the quad, giving Buffy enough time to get Dawn across the street and far away from Glory. If they could make it to the Magic Box-- 

“Buffy!” Dawn cried out, stopping to catch her breath. 

“We have to keep moving!” 

“I can’t,” Dawn said and collapsed to the ground. 

Without a second thought, Buffy gripped Dawn by the arm and hauled the girl to her feet. Moving quickly, she scooped Dawn into her arms, counting every precious moment they had wasted as she sprinted toward the street. Almost there, Buffy grit her teeth. If they could make it across the street without Glory seeing them, they could take cover in one of the stores where she couldn’t find them. 

“I really hate it when people touch my things,” Glory said, appearing in front of Buffy. 

Buffy’s mouth grew dry as she stared at the hell-god in disbelief. She could feel Dawn’s body quaking in fear as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to think or speak, momentarily paralyzed in fear. Buffy’s arms loosened as Dawn planted her feet on the pavement and stepped behind her. 

“Any last words, Slay-runt?” Glory taunted. 

From the corner of her eyes, Buffy saw their saving grace barreling toward them at full speed. “Just one. Truck,” Buffy said just as the giant big-rig slammed into Glory with a horrible screech.

Buffy glanced at Dawn and took her hand. “Let’s get out of here before she comes to,” she said just as a crowd gathered around the wreckage. 

++++

It was nice and shady at the impound lot. Still, Spike waited under the awning attached to Mac’s trailer, scanning various vans, trucks, and RVs for just the right vehicle that could comfortably (or even uncomfortably) fit eight people. He had his eyes on a Winnebago that looked almost brand new. He’d stayed in a camper once at Woodstock, although he couldn’t remember much about that experience—he and Dru had been too busy staring at his hand. 

“So, you’re in the market for some new wheels?” Mac said as he climbed into the trailer. 

“Yeah. Something big—family-sized, and I need it in a hurry.”

Mac laughed into a hacking cough. “Well, take your pick.” 

Spike nodded at the RV glistening in the sun and said, “Had my eye on that one over there.” 

“Oh, she’s a beaut. Gonna cost you, though.” 

Spike whipped around and narrowed his eyes. “Now wait a minute. Cost me? Maybe your memory is short, mate, but I recall you owing me one.” 

Mac shook his head. “No, siree, my debt has been paid. It’s you that’s doing the owing. Or did you forget that little game a few months ago?” 

Spike frowned as he recalled one of the last games of poker he had played and muttered a string of curses under his breath. “That game was rigged,” he denied. 

“I beat you fair and square, and you know it. I could collect, but I thought, ‘nah, I’ll keep this one in my back pocket. Might come in handy to have ol’ Spikey boy in my debt.” 

Sighing, Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, this wasn’t going as expected. “How about I take that thing off your hand, and we call it even,” he said, pointing out the window. 

Mac laughed again. “Well, if you’ve got a hundred grand at your disposal, then sure, you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Why you--“ he stalked toward the demon and stopped. He could punch his way through this and have Mac’s gang on his hand on top of Glory. Spike wanted to get out of town quickly and quietly. “Listen, mate, I need a ride. Don’t have a hundred grand, but I’ve got a perfectly good 1959 Desoto that I’m willing to trade.” 

Mac gave a long whistle and flopped back in his chair. “Now, that’s worth something. But you love that car. Why so quick to trade it in?” 

“Told you. Need to hightail it out of town, and I won’t be alone.” 

“I see,” Mac said, stroking his jaw. “I just might have something up your alley.” 

++++

Buffy half-listened as Dawn recounted their narrow escape from Glory. The way her sister described it, she had heroically bested the hell-god in a fight instead of the sad truth. They'd got away because of pure dumb luck. Glory had stupidly walked into oncoming traffic, and the truck couldn’t stop in time. Buffy still didn’t know how a truck could stop her. 

“I knew you would best Glory eventually,” Giles said with a relieved smile. “All your years of training--“ 

Buffy pulled down Xander’s blinds and looked out the window. “A truck hit her,” she deadpanned.

“Like you threw it at her, right?” Anya asked. 

“No, more like she waited until the truck hit her. But Buffy ran really fast, and we got away,” Dawn rushed. 

“I’m still not sure how we got away. That truck shouldn’t have stopped her.” 

“Well, all that matters is that you and Dawn are safe,” Giles said. 

“Safe?" She scoffed. “We barely got away. We’ve all barely gotten away every time we see her. She attacks, and we retreat. Eventually, there won’t be anywhere to go. She knows where we live. She’ll find us, and when she does… she knows Dawn is the Key,” her voice faded into a whisper. 

“We could drop a piano on her head,” Anya suggested incredulously. 

Buffy looked at her, confused. “What?” 

“Sorry about that,” Xander said, embarrassment staining his cheeks. “We did a loony tunes marathon over the weekend and… Ahn,” he said, turning to her. “We talked about this, honey. The funny bird on the TV isn’t real.” 

Buffy stared at the couple for a moment before turning back to Giles. “I’m not going to be able to fight her. I see that now. It’s not giving up. It’s facing the cold, hard facts. Our spells won’t work on her. We can’t just pull out some uranium core and watch her go poof. She’s a god, and she’s coming for us, and I need to get Dawn away from her as fast as I can.” 

“Run away? Finally, a sensible plan,” Anya said, throwing up her arms. 

“No one goes home,” Buffy continued, ignoring her. “No, no one tell anyone we’re leaving. Just pack up whatever we can, and we leave as soon as we can. Spike’s already working on transportation. We’ll meet him at the rendezvous point, and then we’re gone.” 

“So, does this mean I don’t have to study for geometry?” Dawn asked, perking up. 

++++ 

“Did you retrieve the Key?” Gronx greeted Ben at the door to Glory’s apartment. 

Ben looked down at his tattered dress and broken shoes. Getting hit by a truck was a first for him, and it felt exactly how he had imagined it would feel. “Does it look like I got the Key?” he asked, limping into Glory’s bedroom. 

“No, you’re looking rather bruised and keyless.” 

“I think she was close this time. I can still feel her excitement humming under my skin.” 

Gronx clapped his hand. “Splendid! This means it’s only a matter of time before our Glorifucus will return home and to her true magnificence.” 

“Yeah,” Ben said, gingerly peeling off the dress. “And you’re sure that once she gets her key, I’ll be free of her?” All his life, he was sure that if Glory got her Key, he would cease to exist. But if there was a chance, even the slightest chance that he could survive this, he was willing to do whatever it took. 

“Oh, most certainly. Our Glorifucus has promised that you will receive your just rewards.” 

Ben’s eyes thinned into two slits. “What does that mean?” Ben grabbed the minion around the collar. 

Gronx bowed his head. “Glorifucus will keep her word to you, sir,” it assured Ben. 

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Good. I just want this to be over.” 

++++

Buffy watched as a rusty RV rumbled to a sickly halt in front of them. She knew it was Spike, the blacked-out and foil tinted windows giving him away long before he opened the door. Buffy took in his dark goggles and leather gloves. Oh, boy, she thought, stepping forward, she glanced inside the camper and coughed, nearly choking on the stench. 

“What do you think?” Spike asked with a brow wiggle. “They call it a vacation on wheels.” 

“Reminds me of the Four Seasons,” Buffy said dryly. “But it’s big, and it’ll get us where we need to go.” Buffy climbed into the RV and looked around. “Thank you.” 

“It ain’t much, but…” 

Buffy took his gloved hand and squeezed it in hers. “It’s enough,” she said, her voice resolute. 

Turning away from him, Buffy helped the others into the RV, taking special care with Tara. 

“Ewww, why does it smell like old farts in here?” Dawn asked, climbing inside. 

Spike glanced at Buffy and shrugged. “Buckle up, kids, Daddy's puttin’ the hammer down.” 

Within minutes they were on the road, headed out of Sunnydale. Buffy grabbed Spike’s map and unfolded it in her lap. They went south. Giles knew a Watcher in Mexico City with a safe house he was certain would shelter them. Buffy squinted her eyes, studying the route they had coursed out. 

“How are you feeling over there?” Spike asked, breaking the silence. 

Buffy looked up and sighed. “Numb,” she answered truthfully. If she let herself feel anything more, she’d crack. 

“We’ll be there soon enough pet. Then you’ll have time to breathe.” 

Buffy looked around the Winnebago’s warm interior and imagined family trips and vacations, before turning her gaze to the others. Dawn was sitting at the eat-in kitchen table with Anya and Xander while Giles read in a corner, and poor Willow was keeping Tara calm by the window. These people were her family, and it was up to her to keep them safe, and so far, Buffy felt like she had let them down. But if she could make it to the safe house, then they might have a chance. 

“I keep looking at all these squiggly lines, but it doesn’t tell me how long we’ve got.” 

“About 38 hours,” Spike said, “36 now. As long as we don’t make any stops, we can make good time.” 

“You can’t drive the entire way. Even vampires have to sleep.” 

Spike chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about me, love. Rupert and I worked it out. Those of us who can drive will take turns at the wheel.” 

Buffy lifted a brow. “That sounded like a shot.” 

“Hey, I offered to teach you,” he said with a shrug. 

“Come on, you know me. Buffy and driving is like oil and water.” 

“Well, when this is all over, the offer still stands.” 

Buffy smiled and felt her shoulders relax as the tension eased from her stiff muscles. She appreciated the subtle optimism Spike offered her. “Right, like you’d ever let me behind Lola’s wheel,” she said, calling the Desoto by its secret name. 

Spike cleared his throat and shifted his body. “Yeah, well…” The corners of his lips turned down into a sad pout. 

Sensing something was bothering him, Buffy moved closer. “Spike?” She angled her head in question. “Did something happen to Lola?” 

“No,” he grumbled. 

“Spike,” Buffy repeated. 

After a long pause, he said, “I traded her for the RV.” 

“But you love that car!” 

Spike laughed again and took Buffy’s free hand. “Yeah, I do. But I love you and Dawn more. It’s just a car.” 

Buffy squeezed his hand and quietly vowed to make it up to him somehow. 

++++ 

It was getting closer to sundown, and still, the Winnebago rumbled down the dusty road toward Mexico. Spike had traded his post with Giles once his muscles started to stiffen, and took a brief nap at the back of the camper before rejoining the others upfront. He found a spot next to Dawn on the floor. 

“You’re doin’ a good job being brave, Lil Bit. I’m right proud of you,” Spike said in a hushed tone. 

“I don’t feel so brave, Spike. I’m terrified.” 

Spike leaned forward. “Sometimes, the key to survival is fakin’ it. Keep tellin’ yourself, we’ll make it through this, and eventually, you’ll believe it.” 

“It’s that what you’re doing? Faking it?” 

Spike gazed in Buffy’s direction and nodded. “No. I have all the faith that Buffy will do everything in her power to see you through this.” And that was what terrified him the most. “And so will I. Been workin’ out a plan,” he said, touching a finger to his temple. “You’re both gonna make it through this.” 

“You really love my sister, huh?” 

Spike tore his eyes away from Buffy to look at Dawn again. “With all my heart. Whatever that’s worth.” 

Dawn smiled. “It’s worth a lot.” 

Spike ducked his head, feeling uncomfortable by the sudden rush of feelings. He was about to brush it off when a searing pain shot through his hand and up his arm. “Hey! Aah!” he yelled. 

“Tara! No! What did I tell you?” Willow said, causing Tara to whimper. “I’m sorry. She didn’t mean to. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.” 

“We know,” Dawn said, sadly. 

Spike shook his hand, cooling the burn and giving himself some relief. “No biggie. Look, the skin’s already stopped smoking. You go ahead and play peek-a-boo with Mister Sunshine all you like. It keeps the ride from getting boring,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll just go pop in on Giles.” 

++++

Buffy watched the road, barely taking in the scenery as the Winnebago rumbled down the dusty road. When Spike came up front, Buffy gave up her seat and moved to the back of the camper where she could be alone. It was quieter away from Xander and Anya’s bickering or Tara’s frightened babbling. Buffy stared blindly out the window and tuned out the noise so she could think. 

“Hey. I think Anya’s gonna try to cook. Wanna come watch the tears and recriminations?” Dawn said, peeking into the room. 

Buffy gave her a wan smile and said, “Maybe next time.” 

Dawn hesitated at the door, pausing as she studied her sister. “Thanks,” she said. 

Puzzled, Buffy looked up. “For what?” 

“You know… for pretty much everything.” 

“Yeah, I’m doing a great job.” 

“You are!” Dawn said firmly, stepping to the small room. 

“I’m the Slayer. The chosen one. All mythic and defender-y. Evil nasties are supposed to flee from me. Not the other way around.” Now that they were on the road headed south to the border, reality had set in, forcing Buffy to face her decision to run. 

“You’re not fleeing. You’re... moving at a brisk pace.” 

“Roughly translated in some languages as a big ol’ ‘fraidy cat run away.”

Dawn closed the door behind her and sat beside Buffy. “It’s the most amazing thing anyone has done for me.” Dawn looked around the room. “You keep risking your life to protect me. And now you’re doing everything you can to keep me safe.” 

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “It just keeps coming.” 

“Well, at least there’s a bright side,” Dawn said with a thin smile. “At least it can’t get any crazier than this.” 

Buffy started to reply when an arrow shot through the window and lodged in the wall a few inches from her head. Dawn’s eyes widened in horror as they stared at it. “You know this is all your fault for saying that, right?" Buffy joked. 

She pulled down the blinds and peeked out the window just as a man on a horse rode by. Dammit, not these guys again, Buffy groaned. With everything that transpired over the past few weeks, she had almost forgotten about the knights of the round table. 

“Now they show up again. Giles!” she yelled at the front of the RV. 

“I see them!” Giles called back as he swerved the camper to the left. 

“See who?” Spike asked, standing beside Anya by the miniature stove. Another arrow shot through the RV and landed in the wall near his head. “Bloody hell!” Spike yelled. 

“Someone’s shooting arrows at us?!” Xander shouted. 

More arrows flew through the cab, landing dangerously close to the others. “Dawn! Get under the table,” Buffy instructed. “Giles, can you outdrive them?” 

“I’m not sure. They’re gaining on us fast.”

“They’re on horses,” Spike said. “And they’re surrounding us. Put a little peddle to the metal, and step on it, gramps!” 

“Step on what?!” Giles shouted. “I’ve driven tricycles with more power.” 

“Hey! I traded my car for this thing.”

“Horsies!” Tara said with excitement and pointed out the window. 

“Buffy—what do we do?” Willow tugged Tara to the floor of the vehicle and shielded her from the arrows with her body. 

“We need weapons.” Giles jerked the Winnebago again as the knights continued to gain on them. 

“Hello, people! We are the bloody weapon.” 

“Don’t hit the horsies,” Willow said to Spike with horror in her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Wil, we won’t,” Buffy assured her. Turning back to Giles, she leaned forward and said, “Aim for the horses.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks always to Twinkles who so graciously stepped up to take on another lengthy project of mine. I did some tinkering with this chapter so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> This chapter takes us through the events in episode 20, "Spiral" and some of 21, "The Weight of the World." So, I tried to keep this from being an exact retelling of events that we've seen many times over, but there wasn't much I had planned to change until the very end of the chapter. Even with rehashing the events, I tried to keep it fresh. I hope you all like this chapter. The next few will follow canon closely, but then things will change in a very big way, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Dialogue borrowed for Spiral and The Weight of the World.

I have to stop this, Buffy thought as the knights continued to attack the RV. They flanked them on all sides, with no immediate way of escape. No matter how fast Giles pushed the camper, they couldn’t out-drive the small army of warriors. “Everyone stay low!” she shouted as a sword came flying through one window, shattering the glass all around them. Buffy crouched down beside Dawn. “Just stay down, okay. We’re going to get out of this.” 

“Who are they?” Dawn asked. 

“I’ll explain later. Just stay hidden, and you’ll be safe. Promise,” Buffy said, rising to her feet again. 

“Hear that?” Spike lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the RV. 

Buffy listened closely, recognizing the sound of pattering feet on the rooftop. A few seconds later, the running stopped, and a long sharp sword pierced the tin roof, slicing into the ceiling above Buffy’s head. On reflex, Spike reached up with both hands and grabbed the sword before the knight could stab her in the head. Buffy ducked, avoiding the fatal blow within inches of her life. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes connecting with Spike’s. 

“Now might be a good time to do something heroic, sweetheart,” Spike said as he struggled to hold the sword in place. 

Nodding, Buffy turned toward the others and shouted, “Xander! Hatch!” And she climbed on the small table and unhitched the trap door while Xander gave her a boost, helping her climb up and onto the roof. Soundlessly, Buffy crept behind the knight, but at the last second, he turned his head, spotting her, and pulled the sword out of the RV. 

“Our quarrel is not with you,” the knight said, thrusting his sword at her. “But I will not hesitate to kill you if you do not return the key.” 

“The key doesn’t belong to you,” Buffy seethed, dodging the knight’s attack. “And I’d like to see you try.” 

The knight swung his sword again wildly, giving Buffy an opening to counter his strike by punching him in the face. Dropping his sword, the man staggered backward, visibly dazed by the hit, and she punched him again. Buffy landed several shots to his jaw, cracking the bones beneath her hands. She connected to flesh again, harder with each punch. Buffy didn’t want to kill the man, but at that moment, she knew she could if it meant keeping Dawn alive. She drew back her hand, this time preparing to go for his throat when he lifted his arm and blocked the punch. Buffy’s fist connected with his gauntlet, sending shooting pain through her fingers and up her arm. With a fierce growl, the knight lunged forward, and the two grappled, both attempting to throw the other over the side of the moving vehicle. 

“You will die today, Slayer.” 

“Nah, I think I’ll die another day.” Face grim, Buffy kicked the man, sending him flying over the edge of the RV. The vehicle bumped twice, knocking her slightly off balance before she could regain her equilibrium. Not out of the woods yet, she thought as a grappling hook went flying through the air. 

Two more knights climbed on top of the RV; one held a mace in his hand, while the other unsheathed his sword with steely determination. Buffy stood her ground, ready to fight them all. She took her stance, planting her feet on the camper’s roof just as it careened off the road and straight into a ditch. 

++++

“We need shelter,” Buffy said, half supporting, half dragging Giles from the crashed RV. He was bleeding from a wound on his abdomen and Buffy couldn’t tell if it was fatal or not. 

“I’ll make sure it’s safe,” Spike said and jogged ahead of the group. 

Buffy watched as he kicked the door in and hurried inside. “Careful,” she warned as they followed Spike into the dusty building. She swept her gaze around the room, spotting a counter long enough to support Giles. “Spike,” Buffy called him, nodding at the counter. She stood back as Xander and Spike lifted Giles onto the surface, exposing more of his wound. It was worse than she had thought. Beads of sweat pearled across Giles’s forehead as he lay with his eyes half-closed. Buffy listened to his labored breathing and looked up at Willow. 

“I’m on it,” she rushed as if reading Buffy’s mind. 

Turning to Dawn, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, but Spike’s hurt, too.” 

Buffy walked over to her boyfriend and took his injured hand in his. The gashes were deep, but already healing. She closed her eyes, thankful for small blessings like superhuman healing abilities. “Are you okay?” she asked, anyway. 

“It’s just a scratch,” Spike reassured her, wiggling each digit. “But thanks for askin’ all the same.” 

Buffy touched a hand lovingly to his cheek. “It shouldn’t take long before it’s fully healed.” 

“Good thing you never hung up that nurse’s hat,” he drawled with a half-hearted smile. 

Buffy’s gaze returned to Giles. Now would have been an excellent time to have some medical training. The most she knew how to do was put a few bandages on shallow cuts and scrapes, maybe even sew a stitch or two. This was different; this was Giles bleeding out on a dusty countertop in a rusty gas station. Buffy didn’t need medical training to tell her that this was bad. Very bad. 

“We’ll rest here for a minute, but we have to keep moving,” she declared a few minutes later. 

“Where?” Xander asked, flapping his arms. “You have another plan, right? One that doesn’t involve pointy knives and a wrecked Winnebago.” 

No, she didn’t have another plan. She'd never considered that the Knights of Byzantium would find them and chase them off the road. Up until a few months ago, she didn’t even know they still existed. Panic rose in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know!” Buffy gasped, lifting shaky hands to her cheeks. "We just, we can’t, can’t stay here. I-it’s too close to the wreck, we’re too easy to find." 

“Great plan, even better than the last one,” Anya mocked. 

“Give her a bloody minute!” Spike bellowed, silencing them. “We can’t be the only ones comin’ up with all the ideas.” 

“Buffy!” Willow called from across the room. 

Buffy darted to the other side of the station where Giles lay, still bleeding. His condition grew worse with every passing minute. Blood pooled in his mouth, and his skin looked ashen in the dim light. Sepsis, Buffy thought, recalling one lesson from biology class. If they didn’t get him to a doctor, he could die. 

“I think I stopped the bleeding, but…” Willow looked at her with fear in her eyes. 

“Okay, okay, let me think. Just give me a minute.” She turned her back on the others and stared into a corner. Think, think, she coached herself, fighting off hysteria. There had to be a way out of this. She would get Dawn to a safe place, and there was no way she would let Giles die. Everyone was looking to her, depending on her to come up with the answers. All she needed was a few minutes to come up with a plan. 

“We need to--“ she said, turning in time to see a flaming arrow shoot through the window and embed itself into the opposite wall. “Dawn, get down!” Another arrow flew through the window, breaking the thin glass. 

Grabbing Dawn, she pulled the girl under the counter so they could take cover. So much for a few minutes. Buffy peeked her head above the surface and watched Xander look through the hole one arrow had made. Next to her, Willow had one hand applying pressure to Giles’s wound, the other quickly flipping through her spell book. Buffy saw Anya stomping out the fire, while Spike led a whimpering Tara to a corner far enough away from the action where she was safe.

“Where’s that spell?” Willow muttered. 

“Okay. Spike, help me move that in front of the door.” Buffy pointed to an old vending machine against one of the sagging walls. 

Just as Buffy and Spike barricaded the door, the Knights attacked the building, hacking at the walls with their axes and other weapons. Buffy spotted Dawn just as an ax blade sliced through the plaster within inches of her head. Before they could do anything to stop it, another knight came crashing through the emergency exit. Buffy grabbed the man by the arm and twisted it behind his back with a loud snap. Using her free hand, she buried her fist in his face and flipped him to the floor where he lay unconscious. 

“The Key.” 

Buffy looked up in time to see Gregor come through the door, pointing his sword at Dawn. Quickly, she picked up the other knight’s discarded weapon and flung it in Gregor’s direction, hitting him in the head and knocking him unconscious to the floor. 

“I put up a barrier. No one else can get through it,” Willow informed them. “It should last a day or two.” 

“Or until Heckle and Jeckle put a hole in it,” Buffy said, spying two of the knight’s sorcerers outside the window chanting. 

“That’ll buy us some time,” Spike said, cracking his neck as he approached Gregor. “Someone get me something to tie him up with.” 

++++

Buffy studied Gregor as she waited for him to come to. Standing there in front of him, she realized that she had grossly underestimated him and his knights. He had warned her he would be back, but Buffy hadn’t given him, or his troops, much thought after weeks of silence. Glory had seemed like the more pressing threat, and a part of her didn’t really believe that Gregor or any of his men would take a human life. She stepped closer, noticing that his eyes were fluttering. 

“He’s waking up,” she warned the others. 

“I told you we would return, Slayer,” Gregor said, once he came to. 

“Took you long enough,” she sneered. 

Gregor’s eyes darted toward Dawn. “The instrument of chaos must be destroyed.” 

Buffy slammed her palm on the pillar next to his face, drawing Gregor’s attention back to her. “Don’t look at her. Look at me.” Her eyes narrowed into an icy glare as she gave him a quick once over. Judging by his armor, he was important—the leader. “Call your men off, or I promise you, my face will be the last thing you see,” she said, ruthlessly. 

“You are the Slayer—this world’s champion, and yet, you protect the key of the beast.” 

“You shut your hole!” Spike said, coming to Buffy’s defense. 

Her voice calm, she muttered, “It’s not that simple.” 

“You care for the Key because it has been transformed, given breath, life. Yet, that makes no difference. The Key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of god.” 

Heat flooded Buffy’s cheeks as white-hot anger burned throughout her body. “Screw your god,” she said before she could stop herself. Buffy could tell they were beyond reasoning with each other now. And she refused to believe in some nameless, faceless sky-daddy who wanted to take her sister away from her. She’d already lost so much. Where was this god when her mother was growing a tumor in her brain? It didn’t matter what they believed, she would not lose Dawn, too. “She’s not a key. She’s my sister. What kind of god would demand her life for something she has no control over? Instead of sending you to do his bidding, why doesn’t your god just destroy Glory himself and be done with it?” 

“You blaspheme, child,” Gregor said. 

Sighing, Buffy stepped away from the knight. There was no reasoning with a zealot. Still, she tried. “We are not your enemy. Call off your men.” 

“The Key is too dangerous to be allowed to exist,” Gregor replied defiantly. “No matter what form it has been pressed into.” 

“Time! Time! Time!” Tara shrieked from across the room while Willow tried to console her. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why…” Willow said with a worried expression on her face. 

Buffy watched helplessly as Tara broke away from Willow and clawed desperately at the door as if she was trying to break free. Buffy hated seeing her friend that way, but there was nothing she could do. Gregor’s men surrounded them, and he refused to call them off. Even if they could leave the station, where would they go? Who could help her? Buffy thought as Tara continued to scream “time” repeatedly, getting louder the more Willow tried to stop her. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Buffy whispered to Spike when he neared her. 

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he comforted her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. 

Nodding, Buffy pulled away from him to check on Giles. She placed the back of her hand on his clammy forehead, stirring him awake. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed, unable to look her Watcher in the eye. 

“For what?” 

Buffy looked down at their joined hands, giving him a light squeeze. “We should have left sooner. The moment I realized that I wasn’t strong enough to beat her, we should have left. None of this would have happened. We’d be in Mexico by now, safe.” 

“Don’t…” Giles’ voice was faint. “You stayed because you felt it was necessary. You did what you thought was right. It’s what I’ve always admired about you, Buffy.” 

“What? Underestimating my enemies?” 

“Being able to place your heart above all else.” Giles’s chest rattled as he drew in another shaky breath. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far. You’re everything a Watcher ... everything I could have hoped for.” 

Buffy shook her head. His words sounded like goodbye, and she wasn’t ready for goodbyes. She wasn’t supposed to outlive her Watcher. She’d already done that once before with Merrick, and that had been hard enough. But to lose two Watchers in her lifetime? She couldn’t bear losing another one, especially Giles, who was more of a father to her than Hank Summers had ever been. Buffy held his hand for several long minutes before gently slipping hers away. If she didn’t find help soon, Giles would die. They were in the middle of the California desert, and they were trapped with no way to get to a hospital. She needed help.

“Giles needs a doctor,” Buffy announced, turning away from her Watcher. “I doubt Gregor or his men will allow us to walk out of here with Dawn, so we need to convince them to allow one to come to us.” 

“Who do you have in mind?” Xander asked. “I don’t know any doctor who still makes house calls. And definitely not to a place like this.” 

“Ben,” Dawn suggested. “He’s a doctor, and he’s our friend.” 

“Might be worth a shot,” Spike muttered. 

That was exactly who she’d been thinking of when she suggested bringing in a doctor, a doctor who wouldn’t question her about the army of knights outside those doors. Although their spark had fizzled, Buffy still considered Ben to be a friend. He knew about Glory and seemed willing to help when she needed him. She still had his number from the party. Even though she had never planned to use it, she had saved it anyway, just in case she needed him for something. Tonight seemed like a good enough time as any to use it. “Willow, I need you to open a door,” Buffy said, deciding. 

A few minutes later, she, Xander, and Spike crossed through the barrier and out into the open where they were vulnerable and unprotected by Willow’s spell. 

“Speak,” the knight called Dante said to her as she approached him. 

“One of my friends was hurt when your army attacked us.” 

“And ten of my men are dead. Honorable men.” Dante placed his hand on his sword, drawing it as he spoke. 

That was up for debate, Buffy wanted to say, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to antagonize the man when she was trying to appeal to his humanity. Ignoring the urge to snark, she asked, “Will you let someone come and help him or not?” 

His lip curled into a disgusted sneer. “Give quarter to an agent of the beast? What madness would move me to such action?” 

“How about that honor you just spoke about?” Buffy said, trying to appeal to his code of chivalry. “Or does that all go out the window whenever you decide?” 

“The Slayer asked nicely, you might want to take her up on her offer while the gettin’s good, mate. Me, I won’t be as nice.” Spike stepped forward with a menacing look on his face. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Uh... this is war, isn’t it?” Xander intervened. “There are rules to this thing, rules of engagement. We came out here in hopes of a peaceful parley; let’s keep it that way, okay. All of us,” Xander said, glancing between the two opposing groups. “Besides, we have General Scarface back there.” 

Dante narrowed his eyes at Buffy, sizing her up. “Very well. Get your help. But if you harm one hair on my general’s head, there will be hell to pay.” 

++++

Ben pulled up to the abandoned gas station with a pensive expression on his face. Buffy had told him she had gotten into some trouble. Still, he'd never imagined that she was being held hostage by the Knights of Byzantium. He had recognized the order as soon as he approached them. Glory had warned him that the knights were also after their key. So far, he had avoided Gregor and his men, but it was only a matter of time before they discovered that he was the vessel the monks had forged to keep Glory tethered to this dimension. The real “Rose Mary’s Baby,” he thought sardonically as he climbed out of the car.

Ben grabbed his medical bag and carefully walked past two of the knights, hoping they wouldn’t be able to sense Glory. As long as he was in this form, he was vulnerable to things like sharp, pointy swords. Ben held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed, save for the surgical tools tucked away in his bag. “I come in peace,” he said, as he passed the one that looked in charge. 

“Through the barrier, whelp.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” Ben said, shaking his head and stepping through the magical portal where Buffy and the others waited for him. “You forgot to mention the LARP’ing session outside,” Ben greeted her as he stepped into the darkened station. 

“Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t know who else to call,” Buffy explained. 

“No, it’s okay. Not exactly how I pictured seeing you again, but I’ll take what I can get.” 

“We just need you to help our friend,” Spike said, saddling up beside Buffy. “You think you can take care of that for us, mate?” 

“What Spike is trying to say is, thank you for coming,” she said, nudging the vampire in the ribs with her elbow. 

Ben’s eyes darted between them as realization dawned on him. The minions had neglected to fill him in on that bit of news. Masking his surprise, he responded with a casual, “My pleasure.” 

“Do you think you can help him?” Buffy asked, leading him over to Giles.

“I can try.” 

Ben could feel Buffy’s eyes on him as he opened up his medical bag. He hadn’t practiced medicine in weeks, and excitement filled him as he examined the man lying half-unconscious on the dusty countertop. Ben cut away at Giles’s blood-soaked shirt, revealing the oozing wound on his abdomen. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Ben muttered. “How long have you all been here?” 

“A few hours.” Buffy moved beside him. “I wasn’t sure what to do.” 

“Someone’s been applying pressure. That’s good. But he’s going into shock. I’ll do the best I can, but he needs to be in a hospital.” 

“Please, just do whatever you can,” Buffy said. 

Nodding, Ben got to work cleaning the wound and stabilizing Giles the best he could, performing crude surgery in the dim room. “All right,” he said, about an hour later. “I think I’ve got him stabilized. But there’s a lot of damage. We need to get him out of here.” 

That was true. The man needed a sterile environment and a surgeon, and he wished there was more he could do. The part of him that still cared about people wanted to whisk him to the nearest hospital where he could be treated. But Giles wasn’t the reason he drove two hours that night. Ben stole a glance at Dawn, who was whispering with the vampire. He had come for the Key. Glory promised him that if he brought it to her, she would make sure he lived. And by god, he wanted to live. 

“I think the guys with the pointy swords have other ideas,” Buffy said, moving beside him. 

“Yeah, they always do.” 

“I know this must seem extra outer limits to you, but thanks for doing this for me.” 

“It’s nothing. And trust me, I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. I used to work triage during full moons. You couldn’t imagine the things I’ve seen,” he assured Buffy, doing his best Opie impersonation. 

“Heh, yeah,” she said, her lips pulling into a slight smile. 

“Anyway, I’ll keep an eye out for your friend. I promise I’ll do what I can to keep him stable until you all decide what you want to do.” He gave Buffy a reassuring smile and watched as she joined her sister and boyfriend across the room. 

It stung a little watching her with the vampire. Even after aligning with Glory, Ben yearned for a normal life. He could practice medicine and date pretty blonde girls with a sassy sense of humor. He hated that things had to go down this way. But no one could stop Glory, not even the Slayer. The hell-god was powerful, and every day Ben could feel her growing strong as the darkness took over, eating away at his soul. He hoped once she was gone, he could find some relief from the constant torment inside of him. Ben busied himself with his medical bag, pretending to look for something as he half-listened to the knight babble about Glory. As the general mentioned Glory’s human vessel, his hands froze, waiting for Buffy or one of her friends to pounce on him before realizing the attack would never come. As long as the cloaking spell held up, his other half was safe from discovery. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Dawn asked, moving beside him. 

Ben gave her a thin smile and fished a clean syringe from his bag, unwrapping it. “He was hurt pretty bad, Dawn.” He took Giles’s arm and swabbed a patch of skin with an alcohol wipe. 

“This is all my fault.” 

“No, it isn’t,” he lied, taking pity on the girl by showing her kindness in the last few hours of her life. 

“You say that because you don’t know what’s going on,” Dawn insisted. 

“I don’t have to.” Ben filled the syringe with a low dosage of morphine. Even though he was no longer a practicing doctor, he had made a promise to help and heal people—a promise he had broken often thanks to Glory. But taking care of his patient was the least he could do after what he had planned for her. “I just know that sometimes terrible things happen to innocent people. It shouldn’t,” he added, thinking of his own situation. “But, it does.” He flicked the syringe. “It’s nobody’s fault. Sometimes we’re just victims of circumstances beyond our control. That’s the way life is. Someday you’ll understand,” he said, speaking more to himself. 

Ben plunged the needle into Giles’s vein until the syringe was empty again. She was on her way. Ben could feel her breaking through the surface of his consciousness, taking over his mind. He had given Giles just enough morphine to keep him unconscious once Glory arrived. He had kept his promise to do no harm. 

The key is here. He spoke to Glory, reaching out through their faint psychic connection. I gave you what you want. You don’t have to hurt the others. 

Oh, but hurting them is so much fun, Bennie, Glory answered him. 

Just take your damn key and go, Glory. That was the deal. 

Poor, sweet Ben, so attached to this mortal coil. You just relax, little brother, and let big sis take the wheel. I promise not to kill them too hard. 

No! You don’t have to do this! 

“You gotta let me out of here,” Ben said to Dawn, his voice strained as he struggled to hold Glory back. 

“Ben?” 

Ben looked around frantically for the exit. This wasn’t what he had agreed to. “She’s coming! Open the door now or she’ll--“ 

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked, running over to him. 

“Wait! No!” Ben cried as the air vacuumed out of the room. 

“Ben, are you okay?” Buffy took a hesitant step forward as his body quaked and shimmered. 

“Ben’s left the building,” Glory said with a broad smile a few moments later.

“How?” Buffy croaked, blinking her eyes in apparent disbelief. 

“It’s the beast,” Gregor said, drawing Glory’s attention. 

“Hey, It’s Gregor.” Glory reached for an abandoned hubcap and whipped the disc across the room Frisbee-like, where it lodged in Gregor’s chest, killing him instantly. “And now it’s not.” 

“Dawn, run!” Buffy yelled before moving in front of Glory, blocking the hell-god’s path. 

++++

Spike watched in disbelief as Ben transformed from mild-mannered doctor into a psychotic hell-god. At first, his body shimmered as the surrounding air flexed and contorted until the boy was gone, leaving Glory in his place. Before Buffy had given Dawn the command to run, he was already across the room, pulling her to the door. 

“Come on, Bit! Let’s go,” Spike said as Glory blurred in front of him, blocking the exit. 

“Not so fast, vampire. I believe that belongs to me.” She drew her arm up and backhanded Spike across the face, sending him flying through the room. 

Spike slammed into Xander, and the two men toppled to the ground on top of each other. Sitting up, Spike watched as Buffy stepped in front of Glory, hitting her with everything she had, only for the hell-god to swat her aside as if she was nothing more than an annoying insect. Before anyone could stop her, Glory grabbed Dawn, pushing Anya to the ground. 

“Spike! Dawn!” Buffy groaned while she lay on her side. 

Spike pulled himself up and ran to the door in time to see Glory break through the barrier Willow had constructed. He sprinted across the dusty parking lot, closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds only for Glory to catch him in a right hook that sent him flying back several yards. His head struck the ground first, knocking him out cold. When he came to, Glory was gone, and the shield resealed itself, trapping everyone else inside. 

“Dawn!” Buffy's frantic yell carried over the sound of men screaming and clanging steel. “Take it down,” she shouted at Willow. 

Spike rose to his feet in a daze. She’d been right there within his reach, and he had let her get away, breaking his promise to Dawn. He had failed her and Buffy. Spike watched as Buffy limped forward. Free of the barrier, they could venture out to where the Knights had surrounded them. Except, they were all dead, killed by Glory. Spike looked down at the broken bodies, horrified by the grizzly scene. That could have been us, he thought as he moved beside Buffy. If Glory had wanted to kill them, she could have while barely lifting a finger. 

“The beast,” Dante said, blood gurgling at his lips. 

Spike looked down at him before turning to Buffy. “We have to go. Buffy, love, we have to go,” Spike repeated. Buffy turned to him with wide glistening eyes, her face gray with shock. 

“Buffy? Buffy!” Willow yelled, running over to them. Buffy’s knees buckled, and she suddenly collapsed to the ground. Willow desperately pulled on her arm, shaking her. “Buffy, we have to find Dawn. We can’t let Glory get away.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she sat on the ground in apparent shock. “Buffy, please,” Willow begged. 

Spike crouched down in front of Buffy and frowned as he stared into her vacant eyes. He snapped his fingers and waved his hands in her face to no avail. “Buffy, sweetheart,” he spoke to her gently. “You’ve got to get up, love. Gotta get Dawn back.” He took her hand in his. 

++++

Buffy continued to stare ahead, ignoring all of them. I killed her. I killed her. The words pounded against her subconscious, beating her down until her legs collapsed beneath her weight. She heard the desperation in Willows’s voice as she tried to get her to stand. Hands clawed at her, pulling at her clothes, jostling her out of her fugue state. Someone, Spike, lifted her in his arms and carried her back inside the store. 

“What’s wrong with her? Xander asked, standing in front of her prone body.

“I, I could try to uh, reach her. There’s a spell...”

“Sorry, Red,” Spike’s voice echoed in the recesses of her mind. “Don’t reckon I want you pokin’ around in the Slayer’s head. Don’t think Buffy would want that either.” 

“Well, that’s not for you to decide,” Xander remarked, moving beside Willow. “Dawn’s out with Glory, and we’ve wasted enough time. Just because you’re sleeping with Buffy doesn’t make you the boss of her.

“Is that what you think this is?” his voice turned soft, deadly. “Look at her!” Spike pointed in Buffy’s direction. “I may not have been part of your little party of white hats for long, but I’ve got just as much a say as any of you. She doesn’t need magic. She needs--“ 

“What? A kiss from her undead prince?” 

Buffy heard some shuffling in the distance and more shouting as Willow reigned the two men in again. She couldn’t think or speak. Dawn was gone, and she had let Glory take her. It was all her fault; she caused this. 

“Willow’s right, and that’s why we need to do everything we can to get Buffy back in the game,” Xander reasoned, calm again. 

“Don’t you think I bloody know that?! But the last thing I want is anyone screwin’ around with her mind. We don’t know what it could do to her. And I won’t, I won’t lose--“ Spike’s voice cracked with emotion. 

“Spike is right,” Giles squeezed out. “We don’t know what that kind of spell could do to Buffy. It could make matters worse. She’s in a state of shock, catatonic by loss and grief. But I don’t think magic is the way to reach her. Perhaps Spike can get through to her. You two have grown quite close; she trusts and loves you. If anyone can snap her out of this, it’s you, Spike.” 

“I--I’ll try.” 

++++ 

Spike crouched in front of Buffy, taking her icy, stiff hands in his. For the first time in his long life, fear and defeat paralyzed him, making him unsure. What could he say to bring her back? What if he couldn’t get through to her. For a moment, he considered letting Willow do one of her spells, but he was afraid to put Buffy at risk. 

“Buffy, love,” Spike began. “I know you’re still in there. I know you’re blamin’ yourself for what’s happened, but it’s not your fault. We’re all alive because of you. I’m alive because of you. And Dawn needs you. She needs you now more’n ever. You can’t give up now. You’ve got to bloody fight this thing. You can do it, Slayer. You can do anything. Now, come on. Let’s go! You and me, we’re in this together.” 

Spike gazed into her eyes and waited. And waited. Her expression remained immobile with no sign that she’d heard him. “Bloody hell!” Spike growled in frustration. “It’s not working. She didn’t hear a sodding word I said.” 

“That was a pep talk,” Giles wheezed. “She doesn’t need a pep talk; you’re holding back. Try again.” 

Sighing, Spike placed his hands on both of Buffy’s shoulders. Right, this wasn’t a sporting event. She didn’t need meaningless platitudes and empty encouragement. Face set, his voice took on a hard edge. “Buffy, I know you can hear me. So listen up. Glory’s got Dawn. You can sit here and wallow in self-pity if you want, or get up and fight back. You’ve never been a quitter, but if you stay here, that’s exactly what you are, a coward and a quitter. The Buffy I know doesn’t give up. She never quits. She’ll fight with everything she’s got and then find the strength to keep going. That’s the woman I love. That’s the Slayer I know. She’s better than this. You’re better than this, Buffy. But if you want to sit here and act like you can’t get Dawn back, fine. Let her die. Be a coward. Be a quitter. But I won’t stand by and watch. So, get your bloody ass up and fight.” He shook her, making Buffy’s head bobble back and forth. “Get up, goddammit, and fucking fight for your sister!” Spike turned his face away from hers, unable to take the emptiness in the hazel eyes looking back at him. 

After several long, tense seconds, he heard her say his name. “Spike…” 

Spike’s head swiveled around at Buffy’s faint voice calling out to him. A single tear trailed down her cheek as she looked at him with wide, clear eyes. Without hesitation, Spike pulled her into his arms and kissed her on her temple. A mixture of relief and elation washed over him as he held her tightly in his arms. 

“We have to get Dawn,” she croaked, gazing up at him. 

“Then let’s go.”


	26. Chapter 26

Spike took Buffy’s hands and helped her to her feet. She was back but still shaken, so he took charge. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Right then,” he began. “You heard the woman. Let’s get a move on it.” 

“What do we do?” Willow asked between comforting Tara and gathering up their stuff. 

“We head back to Sunnydale. Harris, you get Rupert to the hospital. I’ll do some recon, find out where hell-bitch stashed Dawn.” 

“I’m coming with you,” Buffy announced to everyone’s surprise. 

“Are you sure you’re up to it? Xander questioned her. 

“I’m okay,” she answered with a slight nod. “I had a moment; the moment’s over.” 

“It’s settled then. We’ll follow Spike’s plan and meet up at Magic Box.” Giles spoke up in support of them. 

“All right. Harris, you keep your eyes open for Ben. All of you,” Spike warned. 

“Right. He’ll probably be at the hospital, and we can bypass the emergency room.” 

Spike frowned, not understanding. Ben had literally just attacked them—well, his evil counterpart had, but same difference. “Uh, I hardly doubt he’ll be doin’ us any favors.” 

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor, and he works at the hospital,” Xander said, incredulously. 

“He also happens to be Glory.” 

“Ben’s with Glory?” Willow asked. 

“You mean they’re working together?” Anya added. “Like a team? Oh! Is he her evil sidekick, like Robin?” 

Xander shook his head. “Robin is Batman’s sidekick, hun. Also, not evil.” Xander turned back to Spike and Buffy. “So, you’re saying, Ben is friends with Glory?” 

Frustrated, Spike gave everyone an annoyed look. “No. No. Ben is Glory. Glory’s Ben. They’re one and the same.” Was he the only one paying attention? The man had stood a foot away from them and transformed into the hell-god right in their faces. He couldn’t have imagined the whole thing; he had seen it happen clear as day. “Not one hour ago! Right here, before your very eyes! Ben came, he turned into Glory, snatched Dawn, and pfft! Vanished, remember?” he reiterated, while everyone looked at him with blank stares. “You all do remember, don’t you? Or is everyone here just very, very stoned?”

“You saw Ben with Glory?” Buffy asked, interrupting his rant. 

Spike narrowed his eyes and began gesturing wildly with his hands to emphasize his point. Speaking slowly, he added, “No. What I’m saying is, Ben. Glory. He’s the doctor, and she’s the beast. Two people, one sodding body. It’s like a bloody awful sitcom, only it’s real, and we all saw it tonight. Surely you remember?" 

“So… what you’re saying is Ben and Glory…” Xander began as if he was starting to put the pieces together. 

“Have a connection,” Anya finished for him. 

“But what kind?” Giles asked, stroking his chin. 

Spike laughed sarcastically once he realized what the monks had done. “Of bloody course. She’s a crafty one,” he snorted. “Worked the kind of mojo where anyone who sees her little presto-change-o instantly forgets. And yours truly, being somewhat other than human, stands immune.” 

“So, Ben and Glory are the same person?” Buffy spoke slowly, her expression troubled. In a sudden revelation, she added, “And Glory turns into Ben, then back into Glory.” 

“And anyone who sees her instantly forgets,” Anya chimed in. 

Spike sighed in relief and pointed at Anya while placing the other finger on his nose. “Kewpie doll for the ladies.” 

“Excellent,” Giles piped up, looking at everyone. “Now. Do we suspect there may be some kind of connection between Ben and Glory?"

“Bloody hell,” Spike growled.

“I’ll explain on the ride back to Sunnydale,” Buffy assured Giles. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, and then we can start working on a plan.” 

++++

Glory paced the dank hall outside of Dawn’s holding cell. No, not Dawn, the Key. Don’t go soft on me now, she coached herself. Shaking her head, Glory yanked the door open and stepped inside. “Well, aren’t you a sight? A bit rough around the edges, but that’ll change once we get you anointed and ready to send me home. Chin up, honey, don’t look so down in the dumps. Tomorrow wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for you. You could say you’re the star of the show.” 

“Why are you here?” Dawn asked tightly, wiping tears from her face. 

Glory frowned, hating the girl’s tone of voice. Didn’t she understand that none of this was real? She wasn’t a person; she was a thing, a thing that belonged to her. Jealousy surged through her as she contemplated Dawn’s misplaced loyalty to the Slayer and her friends. “You should be happy, you know,” Glory said, ignoring her question. “This place isn’t your home. You don’t belong here. This life, your sister, it’s all lies created by the monks. You’re just as much a victim as I am. We’re two peas in the same pod, kid.” 

“No, we’re not. You hurt people. You’re a killer.” 

Glory’s fingers curled into a fist. “You’ve killed too.” Glory smirked when Dawn’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t remember. How could you? Back then, you were a ball of energy. But containing you, molding you into flesh… that doesn’t come free, Dawnie.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Right. Maybe I should call you by your real name—Key of the beast. Is that better for you?” 

“My sister is going to stop you,” Dawn muttered in defiance. “That’s what she does—stops losers like you.” 

Angry laughter bubbled in her chest. “You know, your misplaced sense of loyalty is starting to get a little annoying. Before you were the Slayer’s brat sister, you were my key.” Glory stomped her feet, cracking the ground beneath her feet. “Mine!”

“You—you’re jealous,” Dawn pondered out loud. “You want me to be happy about this.”

“Well, duh! We’re going home, sweets. No more skin suits holding us back. No more annoying older sister telling you what to do. And no more brother infecting my mind.”

“Ben… he, he’s you,” Dawn said, realizing the truth. 

“You remember?” Glory frowned. That wasn’t good. Even if Dawn saw her transforming into Ben, she was supposed to forget. Glory knew the magic linking her to Ben had started to weaken the closer they got to “The Big Day,” but she hadn’t counted on the Slayer finding out early. Buffy was no match for her now, but as for Ben… she was completely vulnerable. 

Dawn nodded. “I told Buffy to call him. That’s how he found us.” 

“Right. He led me to you. We have a deal,” Glory revealed, delighted at the prospect of bursting Dawn’s hopeful little bubble. 

“I want to see him. If I’m going to die, I at least deserve to know why... from him.” 

Glory studied her for a moment. She didn’t usually do the dying wish thing, but she could feel Ben’s guilt inside her, clouding her mind. “Fine. He wants to speak to you,” Glory said before allowing Ben to take over. No funny business. We had a deal, she reminded him. 

Ben blinked twice, his vision of Dawn coming into focus as he looked around the room. He glanced down at his clothes, relieved to see Glory had changed into a robe rather than in her usual skimpy attire. He couldn’t imagine standing in front of the girl in a skin-tight dress, trying to explain why he had sold her out to Glory. Ben looked up and saw Dawn watching him with curiosity. 

“You know about us,” he greeted her, closing the distance between them.

“You’re Glory.” Dawn paused and studied her feet. “And you’ve been helping her the whole time. I want to know why.” 

Ben dipped his head and sighed with unchecked guilt. “Not the whole time,” he confessed softly. “I wanted to help keep you safe but--“ 

“Glory got to you? She’s forcing you to do this.” 

Ben hated the hopeful tone of her voice; it made him feel even worse about what he was about to say. Facing her was easy as Glory, but now as himself, she was a reminder of his cowardice. “No. I chose to help her.” 

“Why? What did I ever do to you?” Dawn asked, sounding much too human, innocent. 

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything to me. It’s like I said back at the gas station. Sometimes bad things happen to innocent people. I never wanted this. I didn’t ask to be Glory. But the monks made me, too. And for twenty-five years, I had to live with her inside of me. All I want is a normal life.” 

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” Dawn spat. “You have a choice. You don’t have to do this.” 

“I don’t want your pity… I guess, I guess, I just want you to understand why.” 

“Because you feel guilty.” 

Ben nodded. “That’s part of it. I’m a doctor—was a doctor. I always wanted to help people do some good in this world.” 

Dawn’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, destroying the world is kinda the opposite of that. You heard Gregor. Once Glory uses me to unlock the portal, everything in this world dies. Then what good are you! But you don’t have to do this. We can get out of here. And you can, you can still be a doctor. Help people. Help me. Please, Ben,” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Dawn. It’s too late. I wish you understood what it’s been like for me. The monks were kind to you. They gave you a loving sister, a family who cares for you. You’ve only been here a few months. I’ve lived with Glory all my life. And when she started looking for you, using my body to find you, I lost control. Now, I have a chance to get it back. Besides, we wouldn’t make it three steps out of this room before she realized what I was trying to do. But at least this way, I know I can live.” 

“What if she’s lying to you? What if opening up the portal makes you disappear, too?” 

“She promised me that once she goes home, she’ll have enough power to unlink us. I’ll be immortal.” 

“You’ll be like her,” Dawn whispered. “I thought you were nice.” 

“Yeah, well, nice guys finish last. Even if I could get you out of here, your sister will kill me.”

“So, it’s either you or me?” 

Ben turned away, unable to look at her anymore. “I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be,” he said, before leaving the room. 

++++

“So, this sphere-thingy can hurt Glory?” Buffy asked as she and Spike entered the magic shop from the rear door. 

“S’ what Glory’s scab told me the night she attacked Tara.” 

Buffy blinked her eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness. She’d forgotten about the glowing orb that appeared the night Glory had. She’d given it to Giles in case it came in handy, but neither had known what to make of it. Now, she realized that it could be the key to putting an end to Glory once and for all. But it won’t be enough, she reminded herself as they headed to Giles’s office.

“I found it,” she announced. 

“The old man said he left it behind.” Spike entered the office and leaned against the doorjamb. 

“It was my fault… if I hadn’t rushed everyone,” Buffy said, staring into the glowing orb before tucking it away. Tired, she sank on the small sofa and stared at the floor. “We could have used this against her. Maybe…” she shook her head. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Spike asked, joining her. 

“No, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me off the hook that easily.” 

“We almost lost you back there.” 

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” she murmured, recalling how she had almost given up. 

Glory had taken Dawn, and she’d convinced herself that her actions had gotten Dawn killed. She was supposed to protect her, and she couldn’t even do that. Although the monks had manufactured everything about Dawn, they couldn’t fake their bond or her love. It was love that drove her actions and guided her thoughts. When Glory took Dawn, her mind had cracked, and for a moment, she'd almost let her grief consume her. But love had brought her back and given her the will to hope. 

“I gave up,” Buffy confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Glory showed up and tossed me around like I was nothing. I wasn’t strong enough or fast enough, Spike. I’ve known for a while... we were in the magic shop, and I put a book away. Nothing special about that. But then it hit me. I wasn’t going to beat Glory. I thought, ‘She’s going to beat me. I won’t win this time.’ And it was more than just knowing. It was a feeling in my bones. And tonight, Glory showed up at the gas station miles away from here. Just like that, she found us, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. We lost,” Buffy said, through her silent tears. She quickly brushed them away, ashamed of them and herself. “This… all of it was too much for me, and at that moment, I wanted it to be over. Just like you said.” 

“That was rubbish!” Spike jumped to his feet. “Me trying to get under your skin--“ 

“No, you were right. You’ve never lied to me when it really counted, so don’t start now,” she said with a wry smile. Buffy took a fortifying breath, gathering the strength to tell Spike everything. “But that isn’t the worst part,” she continued. “I felt relieved.” 

“What you’re feeling is guilt. S’ one of the side effects of being human.” Spike dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hand. “Annoying as hell, but it means you care. You can’t let that fear paralyze you. And you didn’t. You pushed beyond the fear and the uncertainty, and you came back for her.”

“Thanks to you… I heard everything you said back there. And you were right. As long as I’m still breathing, I can’t give in.” 

Spike touched a finger to her cheek. “That’s my girl.” 

Buffy smiled and stood up. “Now, you know my secret.” 

“And it’s safe with me. I love you, Slayer, and there’s nothing you can tell me that’ll change that.” 

With the weight of her confession off her shoulder, Buffy stepped into his embrace. “I love you too." 

They held each other for a few moments before Spike let her go. “Come on, I know someone who might be able to help us find Dawn. Name’s Doc. He’s not far from here.” 

++++

Buffy moved with laser focus as she and Spike walked the short distance from the Magic Box to an old brick apartment building overlooking the park. She’d seen it before while on patrols, but had never paid much attention to it. She waited anxiously while Spike knocked on the door. 

“Come in. My door is always open,” a voice said from inside.

Spike stepped inside first, letting them both into the cozy apartment. Buffy looked around, surprised to see a fire roaring in the fireplace and a little old man sitting in an armchair reading a book.

“Hello, there. How can I help you? Would you like some cocoa?" 

Buffy glanced at Spike and lifted a brow. “Uh, thanks. But we’re looking for information. I was hoping you could help us.” 

“Oh?” 

“The Slayer’s kid sis has gone missing,” Spike began, moving forward. “We’re trying to find the beastie who knicked her—goes by Glory. Hell-god type, gotta few screws loose.” Spike wagged his finger next to his ear. 

The old man looked at Buffy. A faint smile played at the corner of his lips. A twinge of discomfort settled at the base of her spine as she returned his gaze. She didn’t like his smile or the creepy way he looked at her with his unflinching eyes. 

“Glory, Glory, Glory,” Doc tapped his chin in thought before snapping his fingers. “Oh! You mean Glorifucus. Golly, why would you want to get mixed up with her? That’s a sure way to go and get yourself killed. Very unpleasant young lady. My best advice when dealing with a hell-god is, don’t.” 

“Believe me, Doc, if I had my way, we’d be in the next country by now.” 

“Well, that’s just too bad. I wish there was more I could tell you, but I’m just a small-town boy.”

Buffy only half-listened as Spike questioned the old man. Instead, her eyes swept the room, spotting a wooden box on the old man’s table. Buffy frowned at it, her intuition telling her that she needed the contents of that box. “He’s lying,” she interrupted. 

“I know,” Spike agreed without taking his eyes off Doc. “The question is why.” 

The old man smiled before he suddenly leaped from his chair and grabbed a sword, surprising them both by thrusting the blade at Spike’s throat. Thinking fast, Buffy grabbed Doc’s typewriter and flung it in his direction. The old man’s tongue whipped out, striking her in the chest before retreating back into his mouth. The force of his snake-like tongue sent her flying across the room and crashing into a table while Spike wrestled Doc for the sword.

“You think only underworld bottom feeders worship the beast? Her day is coming, boys and girls, and when it does, you’re going to see something.” 

I don’t have time for this. Buffy straightened herself up and darted across the room. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said, grabbing the sword from Doc’s hand and stabbing him in the chest. “The box,” she said to Spike.

Spike straightened up and dusted himself off before grabbing the wooden chest. “Never knew Doc was the religious type.” 

Buffy followed him out into the hall. “Seems Glory’s following reaches beyond her little minions. What do you think is in there?” She nodded at his hands. 

“Don’t know, but I got a feelin’ it’ll come in handy. Let’s get these to Giles and find out.” 

++++

Everything they couldn’t find about Glory during their many hours of research was laid out in front of them, spread across the dining tray hovering over Giles’s lap. Buffy sat pensively beside Spike as Giles poured over the text from his hospital bed, stopping every few minutes to reassure them that he was almost done. Every minute that Dawn was out there with Glory felt like an eternity, and it took everything in her not to rush him. Getting the translation correct was important, and Buffy knew that it took a lot of his energy to do it. The knights had missed vital organs, but he had lost a lot of blood before Ben showed up to stabilize him. No, not Ben, Buffy thought angrily. Glory. Ben was nothing more than an illusion, an illusion that had played upon her friendship to get closer to Dawn. 

Restless with agitation, Buffy stood up and announced, “I’m going to get coffee.” 

“I could use some, too,” Willow said. “Xander?” She looked at Tara, then back at him. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.” 

“How is she?” Buffy asked once they were in the hallway. 

“They gave her a mild sedative. That seemed to calm her down. I—I think it’s almost time. She’s been more agitated lately, harder to keep calm." 

Buffy stopped in front of the vending machine and studied it blindly. “I’m sorry this happened to her, Willow. I wish—I wish I had done more.” 

“You did the best you could.” 

Buffy turned to look at her friend. “I almost gave up tonight.” 

“I know. And I understand, Buffy. You’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders since we were in high school. I know this can’t be easy, but you’re still here… and so are we.” 

Sniffing back tears, Buffy pulled Willow in for a hug, embracing her tightly. “Thank you.” They walked back to Giles’s room together. 

“The scrolls you found are ritual texts,” Giles greeted them. 

“What does it say?” Buffy moved beside his bed and eagerly peered at his notes. 

“Well, uh, according to the text, Glory can be stopped. I’ve read through them carefully and, well, there’s not much room for error. The author was very specific in its meaning and detail.” 

“And?” Spike prodded. 

“The dimensional portal Glory plans on opening isn’t just to her home… it’s a portal to all hell dimensions. And she plans on opening it by ritual bloodletting.”

“Dawn’s blood,” Buffy confirmed, her voice faint. 

“Yes, and when this happens, the fabric that separates each dimension will be destroyed. Demons will pour forth, bringing chaos with them. Reality will cease to exist, and hell will reign on Earth." 

“Okay. How do we stop it?" 

“Buffy…” Giles paused and looked her in the eye. “The only way to stop it is to kill Dawn.” 

“No.” The word was hard, unmoving. “That’s not even an option.” 

“But if my calculations are correct--“

“No!” Buffy yelled. “I don’t wanna hear it! Whatever ideas you have about Dawn is a nonstarter. We’re not discussing this!” 

“Yes, we bloody well are!” Giles shouted, slamming his hand down on the tray table.

“Really? You’re really going to sit there and discuss killing my sister? Is that what we’re going to bloody well talk about?!”

“She’s not your sister,” Giles whispered. 

Buffy glared at him with fire in her eyes. Of all the people she thought would understand, it was Giles. The fact that he would even consider killing Dawn was unfathomable to her. “No. She’s not. She’s more than that. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her... and I feel closer to her than…” Buffy sighed. “It’s not just the memories they built. It’s physical. Dawn ... is a part of me. I don’t expect you to understand what it feels like, but it’s real. She’s real.” 

“If you fail, she’ll die. We'll all die.” 

“Fine.” Buffy looked at the room, making eye contact with everyone. “Who’s willing to put it to a vote. All in favor of killing Dawn, raise your hands,” she goaded them and was met with a long, tense silence. Calmer, Buffy added, “I’m sorry. I love you all… but I’m sorry.” 

“In other words,” Spike said, placing his hand on her shoulder in a show of support. “The subject is closed for discussion. We’re not killin’ the kid. You’re her Watcher, you best figure something out.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta Twinkles! Any mistakes are definitely mine. 
> 
> So, this chapter brings us to the events in "The Gift." I borrowed some dialogue from the episode along with parts of Spike's speech in "Touched" (s6). I toyed with the idea of ending the story here, but I wrote another chapter and decided to bring the story to a solid close. With that being said, MTAC is almost complete, and I don't have to feel guilty about having so many WIPS out. 
> 
> Speaking of WIPS, I'm going to shamelessly plug my newest one, Plenty of Fish. It's a lighthearted S4 AU. I'm also going to start posting for Chosen One again very soon. So, check those out. Anyway, thanks as always for reading and lovely comments!

Buffy beat the weight bag like her life depended on it. Each punch drew from the fear and anger inside of her and expelled itself through violence. Training, slaying, were both an outlet for the frustration within. She’d been the Slayer for four years, and in those four years, she'd had to make tough decisions. The fate of the world was practically in her hands every day. There was always someone to save, some big bad who threatened to destroy the world, but this was her first Glory. Buffy hit the bag again, her fist connecting with a loud thunk. She knew no matter how hard she hit, it wouldn’t be hard enough. Still, she wouldn’t give in to the temptation of defeat. She’d almost allowed the allure of death to swallow her, but Spike had pulled her back, casting her a lifeline with his love. Giving up was not an option; neither was killing her sister.

“You sure you won’t tire yourself out?”

Buffy paused at the sound of Giles’s voice. “I’m sure,” she replied, resuming her punches in a strike combination.

Buffy wasn’t sure she was ready to talk to him, not after what he had suggested in the hospital. He had given her space while he checked out of the hospital, and the others bunkered down at the magic shop. While they researched, she trained—or punched a weight bag repeatedly to keep herself from punching faces.

“We’re still looking for other ways, another avenue to end this. Time is short, but I think it would be best to wait until the last minute so as not to alert her of your plans.”

“Then we wait,” Buffy agreed, giving the bag one last punch, breaking it off the chain and toppling it to the floor.

“I imagine you must hate me.”

No, she didn’t hate Giles. Over the years, she had grown to trust and depend on him; that trust grew into love. She looked to him when things got tough and the answers seemed unclear. Tonight, he had betrayed her trust in him, but still, she loved him. She just loved Dawn more.

“I love my sister.”

“And I love her, too. But I’ve sworn to protect this sorry world, and that means I have to do the things others can’t or shouldn’t do.”

Buffy nodded, understanding the meaning behind his words. She imagined as a Watcher, he had to do many things that people wouldn’t understand. Until then, Buffy had never considered what it cost him to become a Watcher, take a girl—a child—train her to fight knowing that she would die and then move on to the next one. Some might call it cruel, but it was necessary. So, Buffy understood his position, but this time she couldn’t go along with it. They had both sworn to protect the world, but sacrificing Dawn wasn’t a cross either of them should have to bear.

“You touch her, and you know I’ll stop you,” Buffy said, her tone calm, matter of fact.

“I know,” Giles replied in kind.

Sighing, Buffy walked over to the sofa and sat. She and Giles didn’t always agree on everything, but she hated being at odds with him. “We’ve been through a lot together,” she began slowly. “How many times has the world almost ended? And each time, I’ve stopped it. I always win. But this is the first time I think we’ve both doubted my ability to stop this.”

“Buffy, I--“

“No, it’s true. In the last few months, you’ve watched Glory hand my ass back to me more times than we both can count; otherwise, you’d never make this suggestion. Even when I had to stop Acathla, you knew I would do what I had to, even if it meant killing Angel. And you knew how much I loved him. I don’t have that in me anymore…” she admitted. Tearfully she added, “When it comes to Dawn, I can’t make that kind of choice. Maybe it’s selfish, but if there is another way, then that’s the path I’m going to take. Otherwise, what’s the point? If I can’t save my sister, what’s the point?”

“I haven’t lost faith in you, Buffy. I know what you’re capable of. I know the sacrifices you’ve made.”

“Then, you understand. And you know why it has to be this way.”

“I do.”

“It Dawn dies, none of this matters. I’m done. I’m quitting,” she said, and left him alone in the room.

++++

“Grab as many weapons as you can,” Buffy said as she and Spike entered their darkened home together. “The everyday weapons are in the chest by the television. I think I stashed the ax you like in there. I’ll grab the stuff upstairs.”

Spike reached out and took Buffy’s hand as she turned to climb the stairs. “How are you holding up, love?”

Sighing, Buffy stepped down and faced him. “Truth or…”

Spike tilted his head. “Truth.”

Buffy frowned as she cataloged her feelings, which ran the gamut from eerily calm to terrified. “I’m okay,” she answered truthfully. “I mean, as okay as I can be during the apocalypse. How about you?”

Spike gave her a crooked smile. “Thinkin’ about you. Dawn. What I’d do if I came face to face with that bitch, Glory, myself.”

Buffy nodded and glanced away, recalling her own twin thoughts. She had imagined that very scenario in her mind over a dozen times, playing out the final showdown with Glory until she couldn’t take it anymore. She knew how this was going to end. This time things were different; the stakes were higher, and Buffy couldn’t delude herself into thinking she could save everyone, including herself.

“We’re not all going to make it, you know that,” she said after a lengthy pause.

“Well, I always figured I’d go out fighting.”

“No, I’m counting on you to protect her when I—if I—“ her voice cracked.

“You know that I will until the end of the world,” Spike said and tugged her into his arms.

Buffy clung to him, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. All day, she had tried to avoid the possibility that she may never see him or touch him again. Buffy held Spike close, drinking him in. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back her tears. Her chest ached as she pressed against him, drawing from the strength of his embrace.

“I love you,” Buffy whispered into his throat. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I do. I love you, Spike. I need you to know that.”

Spike pulled back so he could look at her. “This sounds like goodbye.”

Buffy swallowed and nodded. “It might be. You know I’ll do anything to save Dawn.”

“I know you will. And I’d do anything for you.” Spike’s voice grew husky with emotion. He pulled her back into his arms, tightening his hold on her. They stood at the foot of the staircase, holding each other for several long minutes before Spike spoke again. “When I started to change. I did it for you. Then along the way, I did it because of you. You made me want to be better. It grew inside me beyond the need to please you. I wanted to be a better man because you made me feel like a man.”

Buffy looked up at him with tears swimming in her eyes, profoundly touched by the earnestness in his voice and the emotion behind each word. Love expanded in her chest, taking her breath away. Buffy fought against the cloud of fear that surrounded her and drew upon Spike’s strength and love. “I don’t know what to say…” she sniffed.

“You don’t have to say anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you. It has nothing to do with me. I love who you are, what you are, what you do, and how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I see how you care for others, the sacrifices you’ve made and continue to make. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman, Buffy. One hundred plus years, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of: you. You’re the one."

Buffy leaned forward, pressing her lips against his tenderly. “Now you sound like you’re saying goodbye.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t want this to be goodbye,” Buffy whispered against his lips.

Spike slid his hands down her arms and cupped her hips before pressing her against the wall. Desperation flowed through them as they kissed each other hungrily. She pushed his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Groaning, Spike lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her up the stairs.

++++

They dressed quietly, knowing each minute brought them closer to goodbye. Spike had meant what he said; he would do anything for her, including doing whatever he could to ensure that she and Dawn survived. Had myself a real good run, he coached himself as he stepped into his boots. There was no way he was going to allow Buffy to face this on her own. He'd promised to look after Dawn, and part of that promise meant keeping Buffy alive. The world needed the Slayer, and Dawn needed her sister. There was no question of what he had to do.

“Let’s grab these weapons and get back to the shop. I’m sure everyone’s wondering about us.”

Spike nodded and reluctantly headed for the door. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew their interlude had taken up precious time. Downstairs, Spike quickly packed a duffle bag, grabbed his favorite ax, and several minutes later, they headed back to the Magic Box.

“We’ve been working on some things while you were gone,” Willow greeted Buffy as soon as they walked through the door.

“What’ve you got?” Buffy asked.

“Some ideas. Well, notions. Or theories based on wild speculation. Did I mention I’m not good under pressure?”

Spike sat beside Buffy on the stairs and waited for Willow to make her big reveal. He hoped that she and the rest of the gang could pull something out of their bag of tricks—a means to kill Glory or some spell that would banish her ass for good.

“You’re the big gun, Wil. I know whatever you’ve come up with is good,” Buffy said and absently placed her hand over Spike’s.

He curled his fingers around hers, forgetting to be surprised by the quiet intimacy she had just displayed. Their time back at the house had been brief, but rife with emotion Spike had only experienced with her. While he was prepared to sacrifice himself to keep Buffy alive, he’d also do anything he could to be with her.

“Well, I’ve been charting their essences—with Giles’s help,” she added, glancing at the Watcher. “Mapping out. I think... If I can get close enough, I may be able to reverse what Glory did. Like, take back what she took from Tara. It might weaken Glory or... make her less coherent. Or it might make all our heads explode.”

“Bitch! I’m supposed to work on the factors!” Tara blurted when Willow stopped speaking.

Everyone froze and looked at her, prompting the woman to whimper under their curious gazes.

“Don’t reckon I want my head explodin’,” Spike said. He was still skeptical of Willow’s magical abilities. Losing vital appendages was enough to make him want to veto that idea.

“No, that’s good. Not the head exploding part, but the rest of it. That could be pivotal. Thank you, guys,” Buffy said, glancing at everyone.

“That’s what we concluded,” Giles said, holding the Dagon Sphere.

“Oh! This is the best part, can I tell her?” Anya piped up enthusiastically.

“Tell me what?”

“Well,” Anya said, standing to her feet. “We’ve got the sphere that weakens or hurts her, paired with Willow’s spell, paired with this!” She walked over to the display case above the counter and spread her arms.

“Uh, honey, I think that’s more than a pair,” Xander corrected with a smile.

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Anya said, waving him off. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right! Paired with Olaf the troll God’s enchanted hammer. You want to fight a god, use the weapon of a god.”

Buffy stood up and crossed the room, meeting Anya under the display wall.

Spike looked at the hammer with skepticism. Buffy was strong, but…"Uh, nah, that thing’s too heavy for—“ Before he could finish his sentence, Buffy lifted the hammer from its encasing with no sign of struggle. “Yeah, good,” he concluded, shutting up.

“I like this,” Buffy said, wrapping her hands around the handle. “Thanks.”

“Here to help. Wanna live,” Anya replied and took her seat next to Xander.

“But wait, there’s more!” Xander said in his best sales ad voice.

“More?” Buffy and Spike asked at once.

“Well, contingent on your approval,” Xander added, looking to Willow for guidance.

“Right. I just needed one last thing.” With no preamble, Willow used a small pair of tweezers to pluck a strand of Buffy’s hair.

“Ow!” Buffy yelped, patting her head.

“Sorry.” Willow offered her a sheepish smile. “I’ll be right back! Giles?” She said before disappearing into the office with Giles trailing behind her.

Spike looked at Buffy, and their gazes connected. He raised his brows in question, and she replied with a shrug. Silently, they waited until Willow stepped out of the office again, holding a small velvet pouch in her hand. “Come on,” she said, beckoning with her hand.

Spike watched anxiously as Buffy stepped out of the office and onto the sales floor with everyone else. Eyes wide, Spike leapt to his feet and said, “Bloody hell did you do!?”

“Stay calm,” Willow assured him. “I—we did a transmogrification spell to make the Aprilbot look and sound like Buffy. Hence with the hair plucking,” Willow exclaimed.

“And you allowed this?” Spike asked, looking to Giles for an answer.

“I helped,” he replied.

Buffy walked over to the newly transformed Aprilbot and studied it with a dubious expression on her face. “She’s so… lifelike. This is freaky.”

“We thought she’d make a good decoy. Admittedly, I haven’t spent as much time as I wanted to with her programming, but I think she’ll be good enough to fool Glory.”

“Yeah, that is until she opens her mouth,” Spike reminded them with his brand of shrewd skepticism. “Or is she just gonna stand there all mute like?”

“Well, we’re not expecting much conversation between the two of them if you know what I mean,” Willow said. “But she’ll be ready. I turned off her ability for speech until it’s necessary.”

Buffy took a slow turn around the bot, stopping in front of it again. “So, the robot, formerly known as Aprilbot, is supposed to be my stand-in while I save Dawn.”

“Precisely,” Giles confirmed.

“This could work. Spike, what do you think?” Buffy asked him.

“I vote whichever way you do, love. She—it looks realistic. But—“ Spike glanced away from the April-Buffybot’s face to her chest area. “What about those?” He asked, nodding at the robot’s breasts.

“What about them?” Xander asked, earning him an elbow in his side from Anya.

“Oops!” Willow blushed to the roots of her hair. “I can fix that.” And she poured some sparkling dust out of the velvet drawstring bag and into her hand. She whispered a brief incantation before blowing the dust around the bot, and her breasts shrank instantly until it resembled Buffy in every way. “There! All better.”

“How long do you think this’ll work?”

Willow looked at Giles. “Uh, minutes. But! That should be long enough to give Buffy a chance to save Dawn.”

“If we can find her,” Buffy said, reminding everyone that Glory was still M.I.A.

“I have to be somewhere!” Tara yelled as if on cue.

“Think we might’ve found our golden ticket,” Spike said.

“She’s been ranting like this for days… At first, I didn’t know why, but I think it’s related to Glory. We follow her, we find Dawn.”

“Okay,” Buffy drawled. “We’ll keep an eye on Tara. She’ll let us know when it’s time. “Willow, you and I will work on the April—I mean the Buffybot.”

“And I’ll keep watch, in case something pops off,” Spike volunteered.

++++

It was nearly midnight when Tara grew restless. Her restlessness turned into panic as she clawed at the doors, signaling to the others it was time. Buffy expected to feel nervous or afraid, but somewhere between the early hours of the evening and now, a calmness had settled over her, washing away the fear and replacing it with determination. They had a plan. She had her friends by her side. All she needed was time. If they could stall long enough for the ritual window to pass, then Dawn was safe.

“Everyone knows their jobs.” Buffy’s voice rang out as she trailed behind Tara. “Remember, if the ritual starts, we all die. And I’ll kill anyone who comes near Dawn.” The words came out before Buffy processed them, but at that moment, she knew they were true.

They followed Tara through Sunnydale’s streets, picking up a few stragglers in various states of duress as they headed to the ritual grounds where Glory would open her portal and bring hell on Earth. Buffy knew they had taken a risk by waiting this long, but Giles was right. If she had tried to go for Glory any sooner, the hell-god would have killed her and still used Dawn to open the doors to hell.

After walking several blocks in silence, Tara led the group to a construction site where a ramshackle tower rose to the sky, looming over them ominously. Buffy stared at the monstrosity and wondered how anyone could have missed a thing like that.

“Whooza,” Xander said, looking up at the tower. “That’s gotta be all kinds of city code violations.”

“This must be the spot,” Buffy said. “Willow, you’re up.”

“Do you need anything?” Giles asked her.

“Could use a little courage.” Spike offered her his flask, and Willow shook her head. “The real kind, but thanks. All right, let’s do this,” Willow said, taking a deep breath.

Everyone went off to their spots while Buffy took cover, and Willow faced off with the hell-god. She watched and waited until her robot doppelganger appeared. Buffy listened pensively, expecting Glory to figure it out any second. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when she continued to argue with the bot until she knocked its head off, revealing that it was only a decoy.

“Hey, wow, the Slayer’s a robot.” Glory looked around. “Did everybody else know the Slayer was a robot?”

“Glory,” Buffy said, stepping out of the shadows. She watched as Glory’s smile faded and hit her across the face with Olaf’s hammer. “You’re an idiot.”

“Buffy! I’m up here!” Dawn called from above.

Buffy looked up and Spotted Dawn tied to the edge of the platform. Forgetting about Glory, she sprinted toward the base of the tower and leaped over a pile of rubble.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Glory yelled from behind.

Hammer in hand, Buffy ignored the hell-god and climbed the scaffolding. Within seconds Glory had caught up to her and circled around the other side of the beam. As she climbed, the other woman kicked her, causing Buffy to gasp in pain. They fought, striking at each other as if their lives depended on it. Buffy reached for one of the makeshift platforms and pulled herself onto it with Glory close to her heels. The hell-god struck her across the face, and she stumbled backward, her foot missing the ledge. Buffy grabbed Glory by the shoulders and pulled her down with her. They landed on the ground below with a hard thud.

“Looks like you lost your hammer, sweet cheeks. What are you going to hit me with now?” Glory taunted her.

Buffy climbed to her feet and looked at the brick wall to her left. Suddenly it crumbled as a giant wrecking ball came crashing through plaster and bricks. Glory shrieked as the ball knocked her several feet away. “Whatever’s handy,” Buffy replied, finding Glory amid the rubble.

Buffy grabbed the discarded hammer and loomed over the hell-god. All the fear and anxiety melted away, leaving her empty. Death is your gift, she heard the First Slayer whisper in her ear, and she slammed the hammer down on top of Glory’s midsection. The hell-god gasped as she struggled for air.

“You’re not going home,” Buffy said, each word frosted around the edges. “You will die here tonight,” she promised and hit her again. Every time Glory tried to get up, Buffy knocked her down again, bringing the hammer across her face.

Glory struggled to stand up, falling to her knees in front of her. Blood trickled from Glory’s nose as she panted at Buffy with fear in her eyes. Buffy recalled the way she had terrorized her friends, threatened her mother, and attacked Dawn. She wanted to see Glory suffer, and she wanted to be the one who brought the pain.

“This is going to hurt,” Buffy warned, stepping closer.

“You’re just a mortal. You couldn’t understand my pain.”

“Then I’m just going to have to settle for causing it.” Buffy swung the hammer again, hitting Glory so hard that the hell-god’s head nearly did a three-sixty.

“You can’t kill me,” Glory panted, her teeth stained crimson with blood.

“No, but my arms aren’t even tired yet,” Buffy retorted, slamming the hammer on top of Glory’s head. She hit her again, ignoring the mixture of threats and incoherent taunts. She just wanted it to be over, and she’d beat Glory all night if she had to.

Glory tried to stand again, this time only making it to her knees. She looked up at Buffy on the verge of tears. “Stop it,” her voice quivered.

Buffy swung the hammer again, catching Glory under the chin. “Make it stop,” she replied savagely.

The hell-god fell on her back, and Buffy kneeled down beside the fallen woman and watched as she morphed into Ben. With the spell broken, Buffy was fully aware that Glory had changed into her brother. She also knew it was another sorry attempt to gain her sympathy. Turning into Ben changed nothing. He was just as culpable as Glory. Buffy looked down at him, her eyes cold. All it took was one swing of the hammer, and she could end it. Still, Buffy couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had killed humans—on top of the RV as they sped down a dusty road—but this was different. This was a dying man unable to fight back.

“I’m sorry,” Ben squeezed out as he coughed up blood.

Buffy stared at Ben, then looked up at the tower. It was over; Glory’s time had passed. She wouldn’t open her portal. There wouldn’t be an apocalypse that day. They had won. “Tell her it’s over,” Buffy said, breaking the silence. “She missed her shot. She goes. But if she ever, and I mean ever, comes near me and mine again…”

“We won’t. I swear.”

Buffy looked down at the man she had considered an ally and a friend and felt nothing. Ben had made his choice the moment he had aligned himself with Glory. He had led her to the gas station and allowed the hell-god to take Dawn. That made him worse than Glory because he was human. Buffy hoped he would live, so he could have that knowledge for the rest of his life.

She stood up and dropped the hammer before hurrying toward the base of the tower.

Heart pounding, Buffy made her ascent up the unsteady scaffolding toward the top of the tower. Glory was done, and if Ben was telling the truth, she wouldn’t come back. After months of living in fear and uncertainty, she could finally breathe again. Hope sprang in Buffy’s heart as she realized again that without Glory, there would be no ritual, no portals to open; they had stopped the apocalypse.

“Dawn!” Buffy cried as soon as she cleared the landing and saw Doc standing beside her on the edge of the platform. Her eyes bounced between her sister and the demon, confused by his presence. She had stopped Glory. It was over.

The demon turned at the sound of Buffy’s voice and smiled. “Well, what do you know? Look who’s showed up uninvited.” His cheery voice carried across the platform, mocking her.

“Buffy…” Dawn whimpered beside him.

Doc’s eyes flickered as he continued to smile at her. “The Slayer comes to save the Key. This should be interesting.”

“Move away from the girl,” Buffy heard Spike growl behind her. She’d been so focused on Dawn that she hadn’t realized he had followed her up the tower.

Doc held up his knife so they could see the sheen of blood glistening on the blade. “You’re both too late. Shallow cuts, shallow cuts,” he said in a sing-song voice, slashing the air with the knife. His eyes flickered again as he opened his mouth to unleash his serpent-like tongue.

Wordlessly, Buffy stepped in front of Doc and shoved him over the edge of the platform. With her eyes on Dawn, she stepped forward and pulled her from the ledge. “I’m here. I’m here.”

“It hurts,” Dawn said tearfully, squeezing Buffy tightly.

“I know, but everything is okay now,” she whispered, walking her to the far end of the platform where Spike stood, waiting for them.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you both,” he said, placing his arms around them.

Buffy took a moment to lean against him and closed her eyes.

“Buffy, love, we can’t stay up here. Not sure how long this thing is gonna last,” Spike warned as the tower lurched with the breeze.

Buffy felt the weakened structure sway beneath her feet and opened her eyes, noticing the first tiny ray of light glowing through an invisible seam in the sky. Doc was right; she had been too late. “It doesn’t matter,” Buffy whispered. “We didn’t make it in time.”

“What are you--?”

“It’s starting,” Dawn shrieked, staring at the portal with fear in her eyes.

“Take her,” Buffy calmly instructed Spike. “Get her somewhere safe.”

“Like hell I’m leaving without you!” he shouted at her.

“You have to.”

“Buffy, no!” Dawn screamed. “You can’t be here. I have to do it. I have to stop this. It’s my blood. You have to let me go. Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it’ll never stop,” Dawn pleaded.

Buffy smiled and placed a gentle hand on Dawn’s cheek. She understood now. The monks hadn’t just molded the key into flesh and bone. They had given her life. Life was in the blood—her blood. “It’s Summer’s blood,” Buffy said with sudden realization.

It wasn’t Dawn’s blood that opened the seal; it was hers. And her blood could close it. They knew, Buffy thought. The monks knew if she failed, and Glory used the key to open hell, the only way to stop it was if she was willing to sacrifice herself. It was a sacrifice only made through the power of love, a love that didn’t fear death. Love so strong, it transcended beyond their illusion and became real.

Death is your gift. The First Slayer’s words echoed in her memory.

Yes, her death was a gift, but so was her love. It was love that brought her to that very moment. Love had given her the strength to fight Glory. Love that showed her the way. Buffy gazed at the light, and a faint smile played at the corner of her lips. She hadn’t failed. She could still save her sister and everyone she loved.

Love is your gift.

A gentle calmness settled around her like a warm embrace. Ever since she was a child, death had loomed over her head, always chasing after her. And for a long time, she feared it, but now she understood that love was greater than fear; it was greater than even death itself. Love believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. And love would see her through this until the very end.

“She’s me,” Buffy said, facing them again. “The monks made her from me. I can stop this.”

“No, you can’t!” Dawn yelled, struggling against Spike.

“Dawnie, yes, I can. I have to. Listen to me—both of you. There’s not a lot of time left. I love you, Dawn. I will always love you. Tell Giles that I figured it out, and I’m okay. Spike, you have to take care of her now. You have to take care of all of them. They don’t know it yet, but they are going to need you, your strength, your heart, your courage.” Fighting back tears, she added, “No matter what, I will always be with you. Right here.” She placed her hand over his heart. “You’re the one.”

“No,” Spike said, shaking his head. “We can fight this thing. We can--“

“There’s too many. Listen to them,” she shouted over the roar of demons scratching at the gates. “This is the only way.”

“Buffy, please…” Dawn whimpered, teary-eyed.

Buffy embraced her sister for the last time, holding her tight. “You have to be strong, Dawnie. Be brave. Live. For me,” she said and ran toward the light.

++++

No! Spike thought as he watched Buffy turn away from them. It couldn't end this way. They had a plan—he had a plan. He was supposed to die, not Buffy. With moments to spare, Spike let go of Dawn’s hand and ran down the platform. He stretched out his hands and grabbed hold of her arm, yanking her back over the edge. The force of it caused him to stumble backward, taking Buffy with him.

“Spike, what are you--“

He gripped her arms and dragged her against him. “I’m not letting you do this alone!” He shouted over the roar of the vortex.

“You can’t. It has to be me.”

“When are you going to get it through your thick skull, you’re not alone? I told you, we’re in this together—you and me. You’re not going in there without me, so we can stand here and waste time arguing about it, or we can make this leap together. Either way, I’m comin’ with you.”

Buffy looked at him with tears in her eyes. “You’ll die.”

“Good thing I’m already dead, then.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Spike… they need you.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” he said with finality.

She pulled in a shaky breath and looked out into the vortex, then back at him. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said, taking her hand. “Together.”

“Together,” she repeated.

And they made the leap.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta Twinkles and the insight she provided me for this chapter! 
> 
> So, our Spike and Buffy have a few more twists to get through before the eventual HEA. From this chapter on, the story diverges from canon quite a bit. There may be a few canon elements, but small ones. This part of the story takes place during the summer months when Buffy made the leap from the WB to UPN.

PART TWO 

Everything hurt. 

Every cell, every bone, and every muscle in Spike’s body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched together again. There didn’t seem to be an end to the pain as it moved in agonizing currents, starting from his head until it reached the tips of his toes. Spike tried to make sense of it all, but the only thing he could concentrate on was the dull throbbing in his head. Bloody hell, please make it stop! Make it stop! But it didn’t stop; the pounding in his head grew sharper until it was all he could think about. He tried opening his mouth to scream his agony, but his throat was on fire, and his mouth felt like sandpaper. 

“Giles! She’s over here!” 

Xander’s voice cut through the roaring in his ears, jarring him back into the present. What’s going on? Who’s over where? His brain was still too muddled to comprehend what was happening. 

“She’s—I think I can feel a pulse. She’s breathing.” 

Groaning, Spike tried moving and instantly regretted it. All right, sitting up isn’t an option. Think! Focus on anything other than this sodding pain, he coached himself. What’s the lasting I remember? Spike concentrated on his most recent memory before regaining consciousness. The tower! He’d been on top of it with Buffy and Dawn. They’d been too late; Doc had started the ritual, and Buffy was going to make the leap until he stopped her. He remembered now. Instead of Buffy jumping alone, he had followed her into the vortex, and they did it together. He recalled the moment he had fallen into the portal with Buffy, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He could still hear her voice as she cried out in pain. It echoed in his ears, reminding him she was somewhere near also hurting.

“No, don’t move her! Willow, call an ambulance,” Giles shouted. 

“Wh-where’s Dawn? Tara stammered. 

“I’m here.” Long pause. “How’s Buffy? Is she--?

“She’s alive, but barely. We need to get her to the hospital.” 

Spike breathed a sigh of relief. His plan had worked. Buffy had survived. When he made the leap, he had hoped to use his body as a shield, taking most of the damage, and blunting her from the pain. And it had worked. If he died, he could do so in peace, knowing that he had done everything he could to keep the woman he loved alive. Spike heard sirens in the background and opened his eyes in time to see the flashing lights. They’ll take her to the hospital; everything will be alright. Spike closed his eyes again as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Wait! What about Spike? He jumped with her. He saved her.” Dawn’s voice rang out, loud and shrill. “We can’t leave him!” 

“Right, right. Spike will be alright. My priority is Buffy. Xander, take my car and get him somewhere safe—his crypt, maybe. Dawn and I will meet the rest of you at the hospital,” Giles instructed. 

No, he didn’t want to go to his crypt! He wanted to be with Buffy. Spike tried to protest, but couldn’t find the words. 

“Is he dead?” Anya asked, hovering over him.

“He’s already dead, Ahn.” 

“Well, he could be deader. This is the first time I’ve seen a vampire jump into a vortex of horror.” 

“It doesn’t matter, just help me get him to the car so we can drop him off and get back to Buffy.” 

“Are you sure that’s fair? I know what Giles said, but… he’ll want to see her when he wakes up. I know I would if it were me.” 

“No, there’ll be too many questions. Giles is right. Buffy is the top priority. But if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll leave a note. Now help me grab his arms.”

Seconds later, Spike felt pain grip his entire body, making him lose the ability to think straight. He wanted to scream, but all he could muster was a sad whimper as they half carried-half dragged him to the car and struggled to deposit him in the back seat. Unable to take it anymore, he gave into the blessed peace of unconsciousness. 

++++ 

He was falling again, but this time he couldn’t save her. Spike stretched out his hand, and his fingertips grazed hers before the portal closed, leaving him to fall alone into the abyss. Spike woke with a start and gasped desperately for air his lungs no longer needed. Still, the exercise comforted him as he frantically looked around the interior of his crypt, not recognizing where he was. The last thing he remembered was Buffy. Buffy! He needed to save her. He had to-- 

“Easy there, buddy,” Clem said in a soothing voice. “You’ve had quite a ride.” 

Spike eased himself into a sitting position and winced. It felt like a truck had hit him. “Where’s Buffy?” he croaked; his throat was like sandpaper.

“Buffy?” 

“The Slayer,” Spike forced out. 

“Oh, The Slayer,” Clem repeated, scratching his head. “I don’t know. But a little girl came by the other day, looking for you. She said you’d know who she is.” 

“Dawn…” 

Clem snapped his claws. “Right, Dawn. She seemed awfully worried about you. She wanted me to tell you that everything is okay and to come to the hospital as soon as you can.” 

“How long ago was that?” 

“Uh, about two days ago.” 

Two days ago! Spike couldn’t believe he’d been unconscious for two days. Anything could happen in two days. Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed and bit back a groan. “Sodding,” he muttered, fighting back dizziness. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going, buddy?” 

“To the hospital,” Spike grated as he wrestled with his boots. 

“Right, Buffy’s there. Are you sure you’re going to make it? When I found you, you were pretty beat up.” 

I’m still beat up, Spike thought, resisting the urge to sit as he struggled with his coat. “I’m okay.” Spike took a step toward the ladder and pitched forward into Clem’s fleshy arms. “I’m all right,” he panted, pushing himself off Clem.

“Spike, maybe you should--“ 

“Look, I need to get to Buffy.” Spike grabbed Clem’s shirt by the collar and gave him a rough shake. “You can either help me or get out of my way,” he growled.

Clem held up his claws in surrender. “Easy, easy, friend. I’ll take you to Buffy. All you had to do was ask.” Clem smiled, baring his teeth. “My cousin let me borrow his car for the weekend. I’ll get us there in a jiffy.” 

++++

Spike leaned against Clem as he hobbled from the car to the hospital’s front entrance with his gray blanket thrown over his head. “Thanks, mate, I can take it from here,” he said once they were safely in the corridor. 

“No problem. Happy to help.” Clem waved him off. “Tell your friend I hope she gets well soon.”

“Thanks,” Spike replied and headed inside, making a beeline for the reception desk. “I’m here to see Buffy, Buffy Summers.” 

“Another one? Ms. Summers sure is popular today.” The receptionist flashed him a bright smile and handed him a visitor’s sticker. “The elevators are down the hall to the right.’ 

Spike thanked her and shuffled toward the elevator bank and waited impatiently for the lift to return to the ground level. He needed to see Buffy again, touch her, kiss her, hold her, hear her voice. He imagined taking her back home and smiled at the thought of moving on with their lives without having to look out for Glory. Spike paused outside of Buffy’s room and straightened his collar before stepping inside. Spike glanced around the suite, noting that everyone was present and accounted for. Spike’s eyes rested on Buffy, and his breath hitched unnecessarily as he watched her sleep. 

“Spike!” Dawn jumped to his feet and ran across the room, throwing her arms around him. “I knew you’d come!” 

“Yeah,” he said and placed his hands on her shoulders. He moved toward the bed and gazed down at Buffy, noting how peaceful she looked while in repose. His eyes moved from her still face to the monitors beeping by the bed. He welcomed the sound of her heartbeat, thumping strong and steady in her chest. Selfishly he wanted to wake her but stroked her cheek with the back of his finger instead. “How is she?”

“Stable,” Dawn replied, moving beside him. “It was touch and go for a minute, but she pulled through. 

“There was some internal bleeding from the fall,” Giles added. “And the doctors said she may have experienced cardiac arrest while in the portal. But she had an excellent surgeon. She stopped the hemorrhaging and stabilized Buffy's heart functioning.” 

“And she didn’t die!" Anya chimed in. "Well, technically she did. But only a little bit, and Giles assured us that there's still only two Slayers, because multiple chosen ones is sort of a thing…" 

Nodding, Spike sat in the chair by her bedside and took Buffy’s hand, bringing it to his lips. He hated that he hadn’t been there for her during those moments, but was eternally grateful to the doctors who'd kept her alive. Spike closed his eyes, recalling their last moments together after they had jumped. She’d been so strong, so fearless as she took off down the platform leading to the portal, but once they were inside, he saw her sacrifice first hand and loved her more because of it. He had meant every word he said to her that last night while they were in the house together. She was one hell of a woman. 

“How long has she been asleep?” 

An awkward silence filled the room, prompting Spike to look up. He noticed the pained expressions on Willow and Tara’s faces and instantly braced himself for the worst. 

“Since the night you both jumped,” Xander replied.

Spike frowned as he tried to put the pieces together. “And how long ago was that?” 

“Five days ago,” Xander confirmed. 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered under his breath, turning his gaze back to Buffy. 

“But the doctor said she could wake up any day now!” Dawn rushed. Her tone was hopeful. “Lots of people wake up from comas and live normal lives.” 

Spike recognized the desperation in her tone and shook his head in disbelief. “What do you mean she’s in a bloody coma?” 

“Her body sustained a lot of trauma—more trauma than it ever has before. She just needs time to heal. Time she wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t jumped with her,” Giles explained. 

“You saved her,” Dawn added. “She would have died. But you shielded her from the worst of it. I saw you.” 

No, no, this wasn’t right. Buffy shouldn’t be lying in some hospital bed. “I want to speak to her doctor.” 

“He’s only going to tell you what--“ 

“I want to see her doctor now!” Spike roared, cutting Xander off. 

“Spike, just calm down,” Willow said, glancing nervously at Buffy. “I’ll call the doctor, see?” she reassured him as she pressed the call button. 

Spike waited in tense silence, ignoring everyone’s words of comfort while Buffy lay unresponsive just a few feet away. His gaze rested on her again, noticing the tubes in her nose, pushing oxygen through her lungs. Buffy, can you even hear me, sweetheart? Do you know that I’m here? The only thing Spike knew about comas was what he'd seen on television, which didn’t say much. 

“Hi, is everything okay?” a nurse said, stepping into the room. 

“No. I want to talk to her doctor.” 

“I can see if the doctor on rotation is available, but any questions you have…” 

“Listen, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do. But I really need to see her doctor.” 

“Spike’s, uh, just anxious, Nurse Pruitt,” Dawn said as she stepped in front of him. “Maybe speaking to Buffy’s doctor might help.” 

“Okay, I’ll go get Doctor Shepard.” 

“Spike, I can assure you Buffy’s care team has been nothing short of professional. Nurse Pruitt is quite good.” 

Ignoring Giles, Spike took his place back at Buffy’s side and continued to watch her. Of all the ways he had imagined their reunion, he hadn’t anticipated waking up to this. When Clem had delivered Dawn’s message, he didn’t know that she’d been withholding vital information. But it made sense. She didn’t know Clem—to her, he was just another demon. If the monsters of Sunnyhell got even a whiff that Buffy was out of commission, all hell would break loose. 

Several minutes later, Doctor Shepard appeared looking tall and competent. He gave Spike a reassuring smile as he firmly shook his hand. 

“Cold hands,” Doctor Shepard remarked.

“Yeah, well, I’m anemic,” Spike lied, noting the doctor’s concerned expression. “Look, all I want to know is when should we expect her to wake up.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Spike—erm, William, William Pratt,” he muttered, ignoring Xander’s stifled snickering in the corner of the room. Spike couldn’t recall the last time he had given his birth name, but somehow introducing himself as Spike to Buffy’s doctor seemed out of place. 

“Mr. Pratt,” Doctor Shepard addresses him. “I understand your eagerness to see Ms. Summers fully recovered. I’m sure you all are,” the doctor addressed everyone in the room. “But as I told the others, these things are hard to tell. Typically, a coma shouldn’t last more than a few weeks, depending on the extent of the injuries. Based upon the amount of trauma Buffy sustained… it’s difficult to predict how long it will take her to recover. But in the meantime, she’ll receive the best care possible from my dedicated staff.” 

Spike frowned. Frustration hummed deep within his chest as he tried to remain calm. He knew the doctor was only doing his job, but he resented his canned response and overly soothing tone. “Look, Doctor, I know it’s your job to give me your little song and dance. But just give it to me straight; is she ever gonna wake up?” 

Doctor Shepard pressed his lips into a thin line. “I really wish I could give you a definitive answer, but comas are unpredictable. Buffy could wake up tomorrow, or it could be a month from now. Even years. The one thing I can assure you is that I’m monitoring her condition closely, and if there are any changes, her family will be the first to know.” 

Well, that was rich. Buffy hadn’t heard from Hank Summers in weeks. “Is there anything you can tell me now?” 

Doctor Shepard looked in Dawn’s direction, then back at him. “May I ask your relationship to Ms. Summers?” 

Speechless, Spike stared at the doctor for a moment, momentarily stumped. What was his relationship to Buffy? Boyfriend, lover, confidante? There was no label he could give them. Buffy was much more than any of those things; she was his world. “Uh, well, we—I’m her boyfriend,” he answered lamely. 

“I see,” Doctor Shepard said with a thin smile. “Again, Mr. Pratt, I understand your concern. I can have nurse Pruitt give you some literature to help you better understand Buffy’s condition.” 

“He has pamphlets,” Dawn said, taking his hand. “I have them in my bookbag.” 

“In the meantime, you all can support Buffy’s recovery by continuing to do exactly what you’re doing now. Continue to visit her regularly, announce yourself when you enter the room--“ 

“She can hear us?” Spike asked, his expression skeptical. 

“Some studies suggest that people in comas may hear as they drift in and out of consciousness. Sometimes during recovery, a coma patient may slip into a vegetative state. During that time, they can hear even if they aren’t responsive.” 

“Wait, are you saying Buffy could be a vegetable?” Xander asked.

“The correct term is vegetative state. And sometimes, people can gradually slip into a state of unconsciousness where they are awake but unaware of their surroundings or themselves. Or they may become minimally conscious and have some awareness that comes and goes.” 

Spike glanced at Buffy again and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He needed a drink. “What were you saying about her recovery?” 

“Continue to act normally around her. Talk to her about your day. You can still show her love and support by touch. Hold her hand, touch her skin. Even though she may be unconscious, your presence can bring her comfort.” 

Right, so sit around and do nothing, Spike thought, unable to overcome his feelings of despair. “Thanks, Doc,” he muttered, staring down at the scuff marks on his boots.

“If you all have any other questions, nurse Pruitt is around, and I’ll be popping in periodically during my rounds.” 

“Doctor Shepard has been really nice,” Dawn said, breaking the heavy silence left in the doctor’s wake. “He lets me spend the night with her, even though visitation ends at eight.” 

Dully, Spike replied, “Yeah, that’s nice of him. Glad you can be with her.” 

“I can ask if you can stay the night, too. I’m uh, Buffy’s next of kin. They kinda listen to me.” 

“Where’s your dad?” 

Dawn glanced at Giles and shrugged. “I don’t know. He isn’t answering his phone. The hospital social worker said she’d try to contact him again.” 

Figures, Spike sneered. He promised himself that if he ever had the misfortune of meeting Hank Summers, he’d kick some sense into that man. “Well, you’ve got Giles and the rest of us,” Spike assured her.

“I know.” 

++++ 

Spike watched Buffy as she lay in stasis, unaware that he was standing over her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He couldn’t shake the hopeless feeling at the base of his stomach every time he looked at her. He had understood every word Doctor Shepard said; there was nothing he could do but wait. Wait and hope that Buffy would come back to them.

With a heavy sigh, he took his position beside her and held her hand. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, love,” he whispered into their joined hands, “but I’m here. I’m with you. You came back to me once. I know you’ll come back to me again. I need you. Dawn needs you. They all do.” 

“I talk to her every night,” Dawn said from her twin-sized folding cot across the room. “I know she can’t really hear me, but… I don’t know, I guess it feels good to pretend. It’s kinda like with mom and me.” 

Spike smiled into the darkness. “What are you doing up? It’s late.” 

Dawn sat up, letting the blanket fall to her waist. “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the two of you jumping. Sometimes neither if you make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t think about how you must’ve felt watching your sister and me jumpin’ in that portal together.” 

Dawn shivered and drew her knees to her chest. “I was terrified,” she confessed. “I saw the two of you go inside, and there was nothing I could do to help. And when I climbed down that tower, I didn’t know if she was still alive. This is all my fault,” Dawn sniffed. “If the monks never made me…” 

“No, it’s not. And I don’t wanna hear you say that ever again. Yeah, the monks made you, but you had no control over that.” 

“That’s what Ben said.” 

“Yeah, well, that wanker was right about something. Fact is, your sister loves you. And I’m willing to bet my right arm that if she were awake right now, she’d tell you that she’d make that leap again if it meant keepin’ you alive. So, don’t go ever go wishin’ yourself out of existence.”

Dawn climbed out of her bed and joined him at Buffy’s bedside. “I wish there was something I could do,” Dawn said after a long silence. 

“You’re doin’ it now. Being here for her. That’s about all we can do.” 

“I know, but I’m the key—or at least I was the key. Shouldn’t I be powerful or something?” 

“I don’t know… don’t think it works like that, bit.” 

Dawn sighed and took Buffy’s hand. “I just want her to wake up, Spike. I can’t do this without her. I know she told me to be brave, but I’m scared. She’s the only real thing I’ve got.” 

Spike reached across the bed and wiped away her tears. He wished there was more he could do or say to comfort her. “You’ve got me.” 

Dawn took his free hand. “And she’s got us.” 

Spike nodded and turned his gaze back to Buffy. He studied her face for any signs of life, but she didn’t move or flutter. Spike squeezed her hand and pressed it to his lips. 

++++

Buffy’s alarm went off at precisely eight that morning, blasting Cher’s Believe in all its auto-tuned glory. Her hand snuck from beneath her comforter and felt around her nightstand until she found the off button, silencing the pop tune before it gave her a headache. Every time she heard that song, it gave her the wiggins. 

“Buffy! Get up, it’s our big day!” Celia called from across the room. 

Buffy peeked beneath her blanket and noticed that her cousin was fully dressed and ready to start their day. She sat up and tried to ignore the butterflies flapping around in her stomach. They were pledging Tri-Delta’s Theta Pi chapter, and today was their open house. She and Celia had a list of sorority houses they had planned to visit, but both girls had their hearts set on Delta, Delta, Delta. It was all they had talked about since their freshman year at UCLA. 

“How are you feeling?” her cousin asked as she moisturized her face. 

“Like I want to barf,” Buffy replied and rolled out of bed. “How long have you been awake?

“Since dawn.” 

Dawn. Buffy paused as she slipped on her bathrobe. She had missed dawn. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Celia continued. “I have it on good authority that we’re both shoe-ins. This is all just a formality. You know, to make it look fair. My mom was a Delta, and we’re both practically legacy.” 

No, Celia was a legacy pledge; she was just the tag-along cousin. Unlike aunt Rose, Joyce Summers had gone the academic route during her college matriculation, joining Phi Sigma Pi, and thumbed her nose at the social sororities. “I know, but I’m still nervous. This is like the ultimate popularity contest. In high school, it was easy to woo the masses; Tri-Delta is the big leagues—the moment I’ve been preparing for my entire life.” 

Celia laughed and looked at Buffy through her reflection in the mirror, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Buffy, you were May Queen for three years straight at Hemery, trust me, you’ve got this.” 

Buffy smiled at her cousin and sighed. She couldn’t let her nerves get the better of her. She was born for this. Three years of reigning as the May Queen, Homecoming Queen, and captain of the cheerleading squad had molded her into the perfect candidate for Tri-Delta. “You’re right. All I have to do is put my game face on.” 

“That’s the spirit. Have you decided what to wear? I did some research, and a little birdie told me, no jeans. I know today is supposed to be casual, but jeans are a little more casual than what the girls are looking for.” 

“I’ve been planning my outfit for a month.” Buffy headed to the closet and fished out a pair of casual shorts and a white blouse. She shifted her weight to the other foot and debated whether to add her blue cardigan to the ensemble. “What do you think about the sweater? Too much?” 

Celia studied Buffy’s clothes with a critical eye and pursed her lips. “You could go either way. Personally, I’d ditch the cardigan.”

“Consider it ditched,” Buffy said, returning it back to its place in the closet. “Besides, I think I can still see that ketchup stain from that time Kathy borrowed it.” She rolled her eyes at the memory. 

Celia gave her a puzzled look. “Kathy?” 

“Yeah, you know, Kathy? My old roommate.” 

Celia’s puzzled expression turned into a confused frowned. “Buffy, you’ve never had a roommate named Kathy. We’ve lived together since our freshman year.”

Buffy touched the cardigan again. That was odd. She distinctively recalled bunking with a girl named Kathy. “Oh, I must have dreamed it or something. You know those wacky residual dreams. Anyway,” she rushed. “I’m going to get ready.” 

“Great! Round one starts at noon, and we can’t be late.” 

That’s right. She couldn’t be late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the prophecy stated that the portal wouldn't close until the blood stopped flowing. In the show, Buffy died, but I always maintained it was the electrical shocks and the fall that killed her. Technically, a person could bleed out without dying. After a certain volume of blood loss, our vessels start to constrict stopping the flow of blood. Even if a person "bleeds to death/bleeds out" that doesn't mean they've lost every drop of blood in their body. Some people are able to survive bleeding out with medical care. They'd more than likely slip into a coma and experience organ failure, but they could survive. This time Buffy gets to live. This is my story for our Buffy Summers, and I'm sticking to it.


	29. Chapter 29

Spike kept vigil over Buffy, barely leaving her side as he spent most of his days and nights in her hospital room. Each day he arrived at the beginning of visitation hours and left at the end of the night, only to return the next day. Dawn always joined him after school, and together they formed a routine. They watched for any sign of change, a finger twitch here, an eyelid flutter there, but nothing seemed to rouse her. And the longer she stayed under, the more Spike worried that she would never wake up. 

Spike shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his duster and headed to the butcher’s shop on main. The owner knew him and always kept a supply of cow’s or pig’s blood waiting for him. He had stopped consuming human blood once he and Buffy had made their relationship official. Even though she never said anything about it to him, he had made the switch on his own. Animal blood wasn’t nearly as filling as a human’s, but it got the job done. He was almost used to it by now. With Buffy in a coma, it might have been easier to slip into old habits, but he didn’t have the desire to “cheat.” Besides, the trip to the butcher’s allowed him some time to decompress. It broke his heart, watching the woman he loved looking so small and helpless in that hospital bed. That night he had granted himself a temporary reprieve before sneaking back into the hospital. 

He tried not to feel guilty for leaving her as he made his way to the center of town. Spike thought about the revolving door of visitors who came to see her daily, which now included Angel, who had traveled from Los Angeles to see her. After paying for his dinner, Spike headed back to the hospital and discovered that Angel was still there, waiting for him to return. “Any change?” he asked, handing him a paper sack with the container of cow’s blood. 

“No,” Angel replied without taking his eyes off Buffy. “Dawn wanted me to tell you she’s staying the night at Xander and Anya’s place.” 

Spike nodded and took the empty chair on the other side of the bed. “It’s me, love,” he spoke directly to Buffy, taking her hand. “Just popped out to get something to eat. Hope sir broods a lot didn’t bore you too much with his—“ Spike eyed the book in Angel’s hand. “‘Of Mice and Men,’” he read, rolling his eyes at Angel’s choice of reading material. 

“It’s a classic,” Angel grumped defensively. 

“Yeah, if you like that depressin’ sort. Now, this is a classic,” Spike said, producing a book from the inside pocket of his duster and handing it to Angel. 

“The Prince of Mars?” 

“Yeah. Got Martians, adventure, a little death, and mayhem. Ever read it?” 

Angel studied the cover of Spike’s book and shook his head. “No, I don’t think I have.”

The room fell silent again as Spike realized the absurdity of debating books to read to Buffy when he wasn’t sure she could hear them. Still, he’d like to think his voice was getting through to her. He was also honest enough to admit that he didn’t appreciate Angel horning in on his time with her. Spike wanted his voice to be the first one she heard when she woke up—not some nancy boy poofter with stupid hair. He also feared the possibility that she’d wake up and fall into Angel’s waiting arms again. What if she didn’t remember him, and if Angel was the first person Buffy saw, she might latch on to him. Spike had watched enough of Passions to know that amnesia was a real thing. 

“I think she’d like it,” Spike mumbled. 

“Yeah, if you can get her to read a book.” 

Spike tore his gaze away from Buffy’s face and noticed a ghost of a smile play across Angel’s lips. He hadn’t meant any harm by his statement, but Spike still took offense to it. “Buffy reads,” he corrected him. “I’ve had the pleasure of editing a few of her reports for school. She’s a good writer.” 

Angel gave him a curious look and said, “Yeah? She never used to be into books or school.” 

“Well, I guess she’s changed.” Spike shrugged and tucked his book away. “She’s… I always enjoyed reading her work.” 

“I guess I missed a lot,” Angel muttered. After a pregnant pause, he added, “I should have been here for her.” 

“Well, you left. And she’s done just fine without you,” Spike snapped, irritated by Angel’s sudden remorse at leaving Buffy when she was at her most vulnerable. Spike knew Angel’s exit had opened the doors for him, but that didn’t make him any less of a wanker. 

“Right. Moved on to greener pastures.” Angel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I bet you were all too happy to fill my shoes.” 

Spike leaned into his chair and smirked. He wanted to punch Angel in his smug face, but they’d done that bit before. He was man enough to understand that Angel’s guilt was doing the talking. He hadn’t been there for Buffy; he wasn’t the one who had jumped off that tower with her. He wasn’t the hero in this story, and it was eating him up. Spike imagined Buffy’s voice calmly reminding him to ignore the ponce. 

“Yeah, I was thrilled,” he answered truthfully. “I love her.” 

Angel started to say something, then sighed. “I know you do. You’re the reason she’s still alive,” he admitted. 

Spike raised a brow, surprised by Angel’s admission. “Thanks,” he muttered, unsure of what to say. He never expected Angel to concede anything to him, especially Buffy. 

“Don’t thank me. It’s the truth. You saved her when I couldn’t. I left, and she moved on. I guess I have too… but…” 

“You had hope.” 

Angel nodded. “I always thought somehow we’d…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I know she loves you. She doesn’t need me anymore… maybe she never did.” Angel stood up. “Take care of her,” he said before exiting the room. 

++++

“There was one slight, desperate chance, and that I decided I must take—it was for Dejah Thoris, and no man has lived who would not risk a thousand deaths for such as she.”

Buffy closed her eyes and listened to the voice reading A Prince of Mars to her, loving the sound of his voice. It reminded her of something, a memory she could almost see. Was it possible to fall in love with a voice in an audiobook? Buffy stopped the tape and pressed the rewind button on her Walkman to hear that last line again. The narrator read with such raw passion that Buffy could feel his desperation. It was as if he had lived that moment himself and was talking directly to her. 

“Earth to Buffy Summers!” Celia said, lifting Buffy’s headphones from her ears. 

Startled, Buffy jumped and dropped her Walkman at her feet. “Hey.” She said, reaching for the device, checking it to make sure nothing was broken, and paused the tape. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you sitting here all by your lonesome and thought I’d say hi before my next class.” 

“I had a break in my schedule,” Buffy explained. “Last minute class cancellation. So, I thought I’d get in some good old vitamin D.” She looked up and frowned curiously at the sky. Pink puffy clouds hung against a vanilla-colored sky. Has it always been that color? 

“If only my professors would cancel.” Celia’s tone was wistful as she sat next to Buffy at the picnic table. “Anyway, have you come up with an idea for the house mixer? Misty wants us to each have at least five by Friday.” 

“Oh, she was serious about that? It’s a college party. How about everyone wears a toga and call it a day?” 

“Be serious, Buffy! Celia sighed. 

“Okay, I’ll come up with something.” 

“Good. We’re new pledges. We still have to make a good impression with our big sisters.” Celia stood up. “You’re still reading Steinback?” she asked, glancing at a worn copy of Of Mice and Men lying unread next to her messenger bag. 

“Trying and hopelessly failing,” she moaned. She’d much rather listen to the adventures of John Carter than read that depressing sort. “But I've promised myself I’ll finish it and this paper will be written by the end of the week. See, this is my determined look,” she said, looking serious. 

“Yeah, you will. Anyway, before I forget, are Aunt Joyce and Uncle Hank still having us over for dinner this week?” 

“This weekend?” Buffy questioned. “My parents? Together?”

“You know, your beautiful and fabulous mother who also is married to your father—the guy who supplies you with all those cute shoes in your closet. Why wouldn’t they be together?” 

Buffy frowned and shook her head. “Right. Dinner. This weekend.” 

“Great, you had me worried for a moment. I’ve been looking forward to unprocessed foods for a month. One can, in fact, eat way too much ramen and easy mac.” Celia tilted her head and studied Buffy, her expression concerned. “Are you okay, Buff? You’ve been… a little off lately.” 

“I’m fine,” Buffy scoffed. “I’m more than fine. I’m five by five.” 

“That’s a weird thing to say, you weirdo,” Celia teased and slid into her shoulder bag. “I gotta go, but before I do, check out the guy to your left. He’s been staring at you since I got here.” 

Buffy angled her body and furtively glanced to the side. A man was standing beneath an oak tree several yards away, looking at her. It was the first time Buffy had noticed him, or the tree. Their eyes connected for a split second before Buffy looked away, shyly ducking her head. There was something familiar about him, but she didn’t remember ever meeting someone with bleached blond hair before. Buffy glanced his way again, but he was gone. Strange, she thought. There was something familiar about him. 

“I think I know him…” Buffy whispered more to herself than to Celia. 

“Well, he’s kinda hot if you’re into the eighties rocker look. Anyway, I really have to go, or I’ll be late. See you back at the dorm.” 

“See you,” Buffy said, waving her cousin off. Buffy looked around the quad for the man with the blond hair, but it was like he had disappeared. 

++++

Dawn’s social worker was named Doris Kroeger. She was a stout older woman with a sweet voice and a motherly disposition. She also kept a pen and notepad handy, which made Spike wary of her from the moment she walked into Buffy’s room. She had shown up at the hospital one Thursday afternoon, flashing her badge and looking for the nearest adult. Spike knew social services would come sniffing around soon enough. Ms. Bell, the social worker from Sunnydale General, had referred the Summers family to social services after several weeks of no contact with Hank Summers. 

“Well, Mr. Pratt.” Deloris smiled and closed her notebook. “I can see you and…” she glanced at Rupert and smiled, “Buffy’s friends have tried your best to maintain some normalcy for Dawn, but I have some concerns,” she shared. “Dawn’s school attendance has suffered over the past week. I understand that she’s dealing with a lot, especially after her mother’s death and now her sister’s sudden hospitalization. But she cannot miss any more school days, or she risks being held back a year.”

Spike’s eyes darted toward Dawn. “That’s my fault, Ms. Kroeger. The bit’s been put through the wringer these last few months, and I admit, I’ve been goin’ easy on her. But startin’ tomorrow, she’s back in school, bright and early like,” he promised with a nod." 

“And I’ll see that she makes up all her missed assignments,” Giles assured the case manager. 

“Well, that’s good to hear, but it does call into question your ability as a caretaker, Mr. Pratt. Ms. Summers, too. I understand her condition prevents her from being active with Dawn--“

Spike narrowed his eyes in a frustrated glare. “She’s in a bloody coma.” 

“Yes, I know. But even before her accident, Dawn had some issues with school. You understand my concerns with her ability to care for Dawn.” 

“Like I said, the kid has been through a lot, and Buffy’s been a good mum to her.” 

“What Spike—William is trying to say,” Giles interjected, “is the girls have had to face extraordinary circumstances this year. I know you have a job to do but--“ 

“And what’s your relationship to Dawn?” Ms. Kroeger interrupted him. 

“I’m—I was Buffy’s librarian,” Giles replied, shoulders sagging. 

Ms. Kroeger pressed her lips together with a small “hm” and scribbled something in her notebook. “Well, that’s nice that her librarian cares enough to visit. And what about you?" she asked, turning toward Spike. “How would you define your relationship with Dawn? You and Ms. Summers aren’t married, but I take it you’ve been living together. And now you’re staying in her house with Dawn.” 

“Yeah? What of it?” 

“Lots of people live with their sister’s boyfriends,” Dawn blurted, flushing pink. 

Spike cringed. He knew exactly where Ms. Kroeger was going with this, and he didn’t like it at all. 

“Nothing.” Ms. Kroeger offered him a thin smile. “Like Dawn said, many people are cared for by nontraditional members of their family. People form many bonds with fictive kin. And I would much rather place Dawn with people she’s familiar with than in foster care.” 

“Foster care? Who said anything about foster care!” Dawn leaped to her feet and looked to Spike and Giles for help.

“Ms. Bell mentioned nothing about Dawn being taken into state custody,” Giles said while removing his glasses. 

Ms. Kroeger took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Foster care is only a possibility. I’m still exploring other avenues, including your father—who at the moment is a tough man to locate. Believe me, I don’t want to pull you away from your friends and sister, and I’m looking at people right here close to you.” 

“What’s wrong with Spike?!” Dawn shrieked, flailing her arms.

“Well,” Ms. Kroger sighed again. “I’ve run into a bit of a snag locating any record for Mr. Pratt. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.” 

Spike’s lips formed a thin line. “Well, I--“ 

“I understand, Mr. Pratt. Many people come to this country… through other channels. My focus is Dawn. But for you to be a candidate, you have to be here legally.” 

Spike wanted to laugh. He imagined himself standing in line to apply for immigration papers. He had traveled in and out of the country for decades without issue, but he never had a teen girl in his care before. Trying to live the straight and narrow had complicated his life exponentially, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “So, what are you sayin’, you’re gonna take her away from her sister and me?” 

“When you say it like that, Mr. Pratt… please understand, I want the best for Dawn. Her safety is my foremost priority. Now, I’ve looked into some other people Dawn listed like Willow Rosenberg and Tara McClay. There’s also Alexander Harris and Anya Jenkins—they look promising.”

“But I don’t want to leave my home,” Dawn sniffed. “I like living with Will. Please don’t take me away from my sister. I promise I’ll go to school every day.” 

“I wish it was that simple, honey.” 

“Don’t call me honey,” Dawn muttered between clenched teeth. “You don’t have to do this. Spike—I mean, Will takes care of me. So does Buffy. She’s going to wake up any day now, and I have to be here for her.” 

Spike stood up and took his place next to Dawn. He was no psychologist, but he knew uprooting the girl from her home couldn’t be good for her. It wasn’t like she was being abused or anything. She’d only missed a few days of school, and it wasn’t like she had missed much, anyway. Spike glanced her way; he could feel her stress and wished there was something he could do to make this Deloris woman disappear. Well, there was one way to get rid of her, but it would only cause more trouble and give him one hell of a headache. “What can we do to make this go away?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked with a scandalized expression. 

“We would just like some alternatives,” Rupert interceded. “Like you, we’re all concerned about Dawn’s well-being.” 

“I only meant is there any way Dawn can stay where she is,” Spike explained. “She’s just a kid. Don’t make this harder on her than it has to be… please.” 

Spike watched as Ms. Kroeger’s eyes softened, and he felt a surge of hope. 

“Well, if there was someone else who lived with the two of you, and who’s capable of caring for her. They’d have to show financial stability, a clean criminal record, and submit to a drug screen.” 

“Well, that’s easy. Rupert here is as clean as a whistle.” Spike hitched his chin at Giles. “He’s as straight and narrow as you can get.” If you don’t count dumping a demon in a dumpster or killing a hell-god while in her human form. Spike should have been more shocked at that last bit, but he had learned that Buffy’s Watcher had a dark side. 

“Would you be willing to move in with Ms. Summers and Mr. Pratt?” Ms. Kroeger asked Giles. 

“Yes!” Dawn blurted. “He practically lives there anyway—I mean, I see him almost every day, and he doesn’t live far from us.” 

“Well, I—“ Giles sputtered. 

“You want financial stability, well, Rupert has his own business,” Spike volunteered. "A very lucrative business," Spike added. “And did I mention the old man is loaded?

“Yep! He has so much money, he just gives it away,” Dawn added, with a wide grin. 

“Yes, I mean no—I don’t give money away, and I wouldn’t call myself ‘loaded.’” Giles denied, turning beet red. 

Ms. Kroeger looked between the three of them with raised brows. “Okay,” she stammered. “If Mr. Giles is interested, we can certainly look into him as a potential placement.” 

Relief washed over Spike as he looked over at Giles. Although they had put the old man on the spot, Spike was sure that he would do anything to help his Slayer, including moving into her home to take care of her teenage sister. 

“I… yes, I’ll do it,” Giles confirmed. 

“Good. We’ll be in touch, Mr. Giles.” Ms. Kroeger smiled and handed Giles her card. “I have your number; I’ll reach out to you in the next few days so we can begin the process,” she said before leaving the three of them alone with Buffy. 

“This is great!” Dawn squealed, clapping her hands. “With Giles moving in with us, I won’t have to go into foster care. I could still see all my friends, and I--“ 

“Alright, niblet, maybe we should pump our breaks, yeah? We still don’t know if Giles will be approved,” Spike cautioned. He was just as excited as Dawn, but he didn’t want to count their chickens before they hatched and all that. Who knew what skeletons the Watcher had in his closet. 

“I know, wouldn’t it be amazing? It’ll be like one of those wacky sitcoms,” she gushed with joy. “My two dads!” 

Spike’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said while Giles sputtered behind him. 

“Oh, come on you guys. You have to admit it could be fun. I can just see the three of us now.” 

“If you say so,” he conceded with a chuckle. “In the meantime, let’s focus on making sure you get to school every day. No more playin’ hooky.” 

“I won’t. Promise!” 

++++

“Well, we had a good patrol last night,” Spike said to Buffy once they were alone again. “Though I’m not too keen on Red lurkin' around in my head like that. But it seems to keep everything quiet around us here. Bagged us a few vamps, but I think they’re startin’ to get suspicious, not seeing the Slayer and all. Willow is working on something with the bot once she gets her head screwed on tight. Can’t have it wobblin’ about. Also, we think there might be a dragon living in the sewer—plan on checkin' it out tomorrow. Dawn’s doing better with school. I’ve been making sure she gets there every morning, and we work on her homework at night. She came by to see you earlier. Giles took her home.” Spike sighed and took Buffy’s hand. 

“I didn’t want to worry you, love, but social services came sniffin’ about the other day. I think we’ve got it all worked out. Rupert agreed to move in with us and take over as the bit’s guardian and all that. I’ve also been working on settling your mum’s—“ Spike stopped speaking and abruptly stood up. Agitated, he ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this goddammit. I can’t.” He retook Buffy’s hand and sat beside, pressing his cheek into her stiff palms. “I’m trying, love,” he whispered desperately into her hand. “I’m trying, but I need you to wake up, sweetheart. I need you.” He sniffed back unwanted tears. 

Spike knew he had to be strong for himself and for Dawn, but days had bled into weeks, and there still didn’t seem to be any sign that she would wake up. When he wasn’t reading about John Carter’s adventures on Barsoom, he poured over medical books he had nicked from the library’s science section. Spike had to believe that Buffy would come back to him. This couldn’t be the end… not when he had just found her. All his life, Spike had longed for a love like this—someone who loved him for him. It was his rotten luck that when he had finally found that someone, fate would take her away from him. It made him want to yell at the top of his lungs and tear everything apart. He needed to do something—anything other than watch his girl slip further into oblivion. 

“I promise you, I’ll be the man you want me to be,” he pleaded to her. “I’ll work hard to make you proud to stand beside me. I just need you to wake up, Slayer. Come back to me, please.” 

“Hi—um, sorry...” 

Spike turned at the sound of shuffling and recognized nurse Pruitt standing awkwardly at the door. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just coming in to check on her,” she explained with an empathetic smile. “I promise, I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.” 

“S’ okay,” Spike said with a shrug. “Visiting hours are almost over, anyway.” 

Nurse Pruitt smiled as she checked Buffy’s vitals. “Right, but that never stopped you from breaking the rules.” 

Spike crossed her arms over his chest, observing her. “Well, I--“ 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Pratt. We won’t tell. I think it’s romantic the way you look after Ms. Summers. All the nurses agree. A few of them might even have a crush on you. They all know you’re spoken for.” 

Spike coughed awkwardly and shuffled his feet. If he were human, he might have colored a bright shade of pink. "How’s she doing?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Remarkably well. Buffy’s injuries were… I’ve never seen anyone last this long. But she’s recovering very fast. It’s almost superhuman.” 

“Then why hasn’t she woken up?” 

The nurse’s eyes grew soft as she looked at him. “The mind is a very tricky thing. Her body is healing, ready to go. If she wasn’t in a coma, I’d say she could go home in a few weeks. But it’s taking some time for her brain to catch up. But I have faith that she’ll pull through this. Like I said, the way she’s healing is nothing short of a miracle.”

Well, he needed that miracle to share the love and extend itself to Buffy’s head injuries. Spike gazed down at his girl; she looked so peaceful, almost as if she was only in deep sleep rather than in a coma. Her pallor had improved over the past few days, and her skin had regained some of its vitality. She didn’t look as small and weak anymore. 

“What’s that you’re doing?” he asked, following the nurse’s movements closely as she bent Buffy’s arms and legs. 

“Just stretching her out a bit. I don’t want her muscles to go into atrophy. A lot of coma patients experience a loss of muscle mass from lack of use. When she wakes up, she’ll still feel weaker than normal, but she’ll regain her strength. Until then, I’m going to make sure Buffy gets a good workout,” she said while kneading the muscles in Buffy’s arms. “Wanna try?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you. It’s just a simple range of motion movements for her. I think she’d enjoy your hands over mine any day. Come on,” she coaxed him.

“You think she even knows the difference?” Spike asked after the first tentative touch of his hand on her skin. 

“Maybe. She might sense a feeling of familiarity with you or anyone she’s close to. That’s really good,” the nurse coached as she watched him. “Like Doctor Shepard said, touch is very important. Even though Buffy is comatose, she still needs to feel those connections.” 

Spike worked his hands over Buffy’s limp muscles, coaxing life back into them with each pass of his hands. It felt good touching her after weeks of relegating himself to holding her hand or caressing her cheek. He had missed touching her. Spike slid his hands over her leg and bent it at the knee before straightening it back out again. “How often should I do this?” 

“Every few hours. It can get kind of hectic around here with all those unexplained injuries in this town, so I know we’ve missed a few stretches. But now that you know how to do it, you can keep up with them. I can get you a handout if you want.” 

“Yeah, that’ll be good.” 

“Great.” Nurse Pruitt paused and studied him for a moment. “I know things seem really hard right now, but it’ll get better. I probably shouldn’t say this, but your girl is in there. She’s just got to find her way back to you.”

Nodding, Spike swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks…” 

“No problem.” Her lips curved into a warm smile. “You just call me if you need anything. Oh, and if you get hungry, Jamie made you some cookies. They’re at the nurse’s station,” she added before leaving him alone with Buffy again.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Twinkles! I just want to take a moment and really say thank you because I know you are taking time out of your day to help me with this and I really appreciate you. Your eagle eyes always catch the things I miss, and I am glad that I met you! 
> 
> So, if you're reading this summary and noticed the chapter title, I'm guessing you're already speculating on what's going to happen in this chapter. Stay with me guys. It's not quite The Fonz jumping the shark, but I just wanted to have a little fun in head-canon land. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think in the comments. :D

Spike stood awkwardly by the door as Ms. Kroeger and another caseworker from social services snooped around Buffy’s home. She had explained to him that a “home study” was standard procedure when attempting to determine the safety and wellbeing of a child with an open CPS case. Spike understood it was necessary, but he felt she was actively trying to find something wrong with the house and the people in it. 

Spike pulled at the collar of his button-up shirt and tried to ignore the sudden itch behind his left knee. Tweed. He hated tweed, but that was the only suit available in the unclaimed bin at the cleaners. The three-piece that had once belonged to a Randy—as noted in the pocket of his jacket—was respectable, unlike his jeans and leather. It was also very itchy. Spike glanced at Giles, standing nearby in his tweed sports coat, and wondered why anyone would voluntarily put themselves through this torture. 

Then he looked at Dawn and remembered why he did a lot of things differently these days. He studied the anxious expression on her face and realized that he’d do anything for her, including suffering in rough tweed for an hour. 

“Well, everything seems in order,” Ms. Kroeger said as she snapped a picture of Dawn’s bedroom. “Ms. Stanz and I can submit our report later this evening.” 

“But you think we’ll pass?” Spike asked, eager for confirmation now. He, Giles, and Dawn had spent all week making sure the house was spotless. Surely, the busybodies at social services would recognize a good home when they saw one. 

“That’s up for the state office to determine,” she replied with a smile. 

“But in your opinion…?” Giles pushed. 

“In my opinion, Dawn seems like a well-adjusted young lady with a tight-knit support group. And I’ll make sure I include that in my report. Like I said, the house seems to check all the boxes.” 

Spike and Giles both let out a sigh of relief. Things were looking in their favor, and he didn’t have to worry about disappointing Buffy by having Dawn thrown in the system like some castaway child. He'd promised her he would look after Dawn, and Spike meant to keep that promise. 

“Oh, before I go, there’s just one last thing,” Ms. Kroeger said, throwing one final curveball at them. “I almost forgot to check the kitchen.” 

Spike frowned and glanced at Giles. “The kitchen?” 

“Yes, we have to make sure there’s adequate food in the house for Dawn.” 

Spike saw the color drain from Giles’s face. In less than a minute, Delores would discover a week’s worth of frozen, neatly labeled animal blood in the freezer. Bloody hell, Spike thought as he tried to think of a plausible reason for the blood in their freezer that didn’t involve sacrificing animals or something just as taboo. 

Gulping hard, Spike followed Delores and Ms. Stanz into the kitchen and wondered how long the chip would fry his brain if-- 

“There’s plenty of food in the house,” Giles rushed, opening a cabinet to reveal a stack of plates and bowls. Embarrassed, he explained, “Sorry, still getting used to the place.” And opened another cupboard, revealing dry goods. 

Spike looked between both case managers. The demon inside of him bucked wildly against his consciousness, warning him that if he didn’t stop this, he’d lose Dawn forever and fail Buffy. He had to get them out of his way, or at least out of the house before they saw something that would ruin everything. Spike watched on in horror as Delores grabbed the freezer handle and dragged it open. Without thinking, he slipped into his game face with a quiet crunch of his features and took a step forward just as she opened the freezer door.

He paused and stared in muted shock at the shelf full of frozen meat and vegetables. Delores pulled out a family-sized frozen dinner, checked the expiration date, and placed it back inside the freezer before moving to the fridge. 

“Spike,” Dawn whispered, moving beside him. “Your face.” 

Right! He couldn’t let either woman see his demon and quickly reigned it back in. Where did the blood go? He wondered in disbelief as Ms. Kroeger took her last photo and closed the refrigerator door. 

“Well, everything looks good, Mr. Pratt and Mr. Giles. Your milk will expire tomorrow, but other than that, Dawn seems to have plenty of food,” she said, placing a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of the milk!” Dawn jumped and grabbed the jug from the fridge and quickly dumped it down the sink. 

“Is that all?” Giles asked Ms. Kroeger. 

“We’ve got Mr. Pratt’s documents,” Ms. Stanz answered for her, patting the folder Spike had given them earlier containing a birth certificate, naturalization, and social security card. Willow had even thrown in some bills with his name on them for good measure. “And I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” 

Spike breathed a sigh of relief the moment both women were in their car and down the driveway. Wordlessly, he walked to the kitchen and looked in the freezer to make sure he hadn’t imagined the lack of blood inside of it. 

“It’s not in there,” Dawn said, following behind him. 

Spike paused and turned to face her. “Did you…?” 

A small, knowing smile touched the corner of her lips, and she pulled a medium-sized cooler out of the pantry. “It’s still cold,” Dawn assured both men. 

“When did you move it?” Giles asked. 

Dawn placed the cooler on top of the counter and shrugged. “While you guys were upstairs. I remembered Spike just picked up a fresh supply and threw it inside here. Quick thinking, right?” she beamed proudly. 

“Damn right it was!" Spike grinned back at her. If it hadn’t been for Dawn’s save, he’d been prepared to do something regrettable. Spike recalled how his demon had practically back flipped at the idea of hurting those women and how easy it might have been to act on that innermost desire to protect Dawn. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about those when I was cleaning,” Giles admitted. 

“Good thing I’ve had years of practice hiding stuff because of Buffy. But that was a close one.” Dawn looked at Spike and communicated to him with her eyes that his secret was safe with her. 

“Yeah, good thing,” he agreed with her, nodding. 

“Well, we better get those back on ice. And I’ll start dinner,” Giles said. “What are you in the mood for? And please, dear God, don’t say chicken fingers and chips again.” 

++++ 

They passed the state inspection, and life kept on moving. The school year gave way into summer break, and much to Spike and Giles’s relief, Dawn moved up to the next grade. As they carved out a routine, the days bled into weeks, and those weeks eventually turned into months. Still, Buffy showed no signs of waking up, and Spike tried to remain hopeful. 

He grabbed a basket of laundry and carried it up the basement stairs and to the kitchen, noticing dirty plates and cups in the sink. Spike narrowed his eyes. It was Giles’s turn to do the dishes. Did he have to do all the bloody work around here? Spike placed the basket on the tabletop and opened the dishwasher to find it full of dirty dishes. Shaking his head, he started the machine. 

“I was going to take care of that,” Giles said as he entered the kitchen. 

“Forget about it,” he muttered. “We’re out of fabric softener. Did you pick any up?” 

“I’ll put it on the list.” 

Tamping down his frustration, he grabbed the laundry basket again. “All right, don’t forget. It makes my t-shirts all soft and less wrinkled. We also need more bread and milk.” 

Giles lifted a brow, and his lips twitched into a hint of a smile. “I’ll pick it up this evening when I go shopping.” 

“Dawn wants to invite her friend Janice over this weekend. I told her I’d talk to you about it.” 

“I don’t see why not? Are her parents aware?” 

“I spoke to Mrs. Penshaw, and she said it was all right,” Spike replied. 

“She could use an outlet.” 

“I agree. S’ not healthy for her to spend every waking moment at the hospital. She’s still a kid.” 

Giles sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “No, it’s not… for either of you. I know it’s been difficult for us, but it’s okay for both of you to take a breather now and then. It’s important that we all remember to take care of ourselves while we care for Buffy. I don’t want her to feel guilty for spending time with friends and doing the things she enjoys. Despite all she’s been through, you’re right, she’s still a teenage girl.” 

Spike dipped his head and stared at his shoes. They were speaking about Dawn, but he heard the underlying message in Giles’s words. Both he and Dawn spent most of their time at the hospital. He’d even cut back on patrolling with the others since Willow had gotten the bot back up and running. It was hard for him to be around it without thinking of Buffy. The machine looked and sounded like her, but it was just a shallow stand-in for the woman they all loved.

“I know…” Sighing, he headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll tell her this evening.” 

++++ 

Spike listened to the steady drip of water as he moved deeper into the sewer. On Giles’s advice, he'd taken some time away from the hospital to investigate the rumors about the dragon living down here. Spike had seen it when it came flying through the portal, but he hadn’t thought about it much since that night. So far, the tunnels appeared quiet, but he wasn’t convinced that there wasn’t something down there worth investigating. 

Spike looked around in the darkness and went in the opposite direction the rats were running. What’s got you lot so scared? he thought, gripping his sword. Spike turned a corner and traveled further away from the reservoir’s entrance and recognized the sound of heavy breathing. Something amber flickered in the shadows as the Dragon blinked its eyes and crept forward in the dark. Boldly, Spike began whistling to the tune of Puff the Magic Dragon and waited for the creature to emerge. 

++++ 

Buffy sat bent over her computer and furiously typed her paper for lit class. She glanced around the library, noticing that almost everyone had cleared out except for her and a few other students. Buffy continued to tap on her keyboard until she finished the last line. Satisfied, Buffy hit print and packed her bag before walking to the copy machine bank. 

Pausing, she looked down at her paper and did a double-take when she noticed the words printed on the page. Gasping, Buffy’s hands shook as she read each line. Repeated on each page in all caps were the words: 

YOU DON’T BELONG HERE. 

Panicked, Buffy flipped through the pages again, confirming she hadn’t imagined it. Her body shook as she stuffed the loose pages in her bag and stumbled out of the library into the hallway. She glanced around the empty hall before dashing into the nearest restroom. 

This can’t be happening; not now, Buffy thought and gripped the edge of the sink. She squeezed her eyes shut and took several deep breaths, shaking her head. Buffy turned on the cold water and splashed her face. She took a few sips of water and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Buffy looked at her reflection in the mirror and stumbled back. Her eyes grew wide as she realized there was a stranger in the mirror looking back at her. The girl seemed younger with brown hair and big blue innocent eyes. Buffy’s heart pounded in her chest and shallow breaths escaped between her lips. She lifted a shaky hand to her cheek and touched her face. The girl in the mirror did the same. Buffy closed her eyes and shook her head, banishing the image from her mind. Maybe her parents were right; maybe she was unstable. 

Buffy opened her eyes again and noticed the girl staring at her with a concerned expression on her face. She took a tentative step forward and placed her palm on the mirror. “Who are you?” 

Mimicking Buffy, the girl placed her hands on the mirror and moved her mouth at the same time as her. Buffy narrowed her eyes and repeated the question, “Who are you?” Her voice echoed against the walls. 

The girl stopped and grew still. Suddenly, without warning, she started banging her hands on the mirror, mouthing Buffy’s name in a silent, desperate scream. Gasping in panic, Buffy ran out of the bathroom, her shoes slapping loudly on the floor as she sprinted out of the building. Her lungs burned as she pulled in a deep breath and she reached into her bag, grabbing the pages she’d printed earlier. She ripped the pages down the center and stuffed them into a nearby trashcan before running the rest of the way back to her dorm. 

Buffy let herself into the empty room and shrugged off her bag before climbing onto her bed. She drew her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth, in an attempt to calm herself down. Buffy closed her eyes and recalled the girl in the mirror again. She looked familiar, reminding Buffy of herself when she was younger. Who are you? Buffy asked herself again. She pictured the girl’s silent screams through the mirror and shivered. Was she in trouble? Did she need help? 

Or maybe I’m finally cracking, Buffy thought, dismissing the girl as a hallucination or a figment of her wild imagination. She’d been under pressure for the last few weeks between her assignments and the sorority; she was practically running on fumes. And strange things kept happening around her. Yeah, that was it. Buffy recalled the day she’d been sitting alone in the dorm room when it had suddenly gone from night to day in only a matter of minutes. She wasn’t sure if she had zoned out for hours or if she’d imagined it. Days later, she still couldn’t be sure. 

Buffy wanted to talk to Celia about it, but she wasn’t sure how her cousin would react. Buffy couldn’t put her finger on it, but sometimes her cousin seemed distant from her, like they barely knew each other. Again, she thought about the girl in the mirror, unable to shake the image of her face from her mind.

++++ 

“This is so cool!” Dawn yelped, waving her flashlight around as she and Spike trekked through the sewers together. “Buffy never let me come along on things like this. She said it was too dangerous.” 

Spike nodded under the dim light and stayed alert in case they ran into any trouble. “Big sis was right. It is dangerous, but I’ve been thinkin’ it might do you some good to get out there. Learn something.” 

“Yeah. I think Buffy forgot I’m not a little girl anymore.” Dawn paused, and her hand shook as she lowered the flashlight. “I mean, she forgets.” 

Spike winced. Recently, her friends--and even Giles--had started referencing Buffy in the past tense, describing the things she used to say or do. Dawn was doing it, too—although she always caught herself and course-corrected like she had that night. “She’s just protecting you,” he said, deliberately using the present tense. “And I reckon she’ll be pretty brassed off when she finds out I took her baby sis to see a dragon.” 

“I know! And I still can’t believe it. I thought I saw it escape the portal. I’m glad you decided not to kill it; dragons are so cool.” 

Spike chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t have killed the Dragon even if he tried, but if Dawn wanted to believe he was a big bad dragon slayer, he’d let her. He’d also got lucky finding a dragon who thought he was her child. 

“We’re getting closer. Watch the rats,” he warned.

Dawn looked down at her sneakers and frowned. “Gross.” 

“Told you to wear rain boots,” he teased. “She’s just around the bend. I’ll go first. She’s a bit shy.”

Spike led her down the dank tunnels where the dragon was nesting safely. Spike slowly entered the tunnel, announcing himself to the dragon first by whistling Puff the Magic Dragon again. “It’s me, pet, your pal Spike. Got a friend with me today. Name’s Dawn.” 

The dragon grunted, and a gust of hot air blew across his face. She moved forward, her amber and violet eyes flickered, but Spike didn’t sense any aggression. Like his first encounter, he felt her loneliness and sorrow. The dragon only communicated with grunts and puffs of air, but she responded to his voice, allowing him to get close. Spike spent hours with her, talking to it, and she seemed to understand him. 

“She’s a nice one; I think you’ll like her too. Wanna meet her?” The dragon gave another puff of air and dipped its massive head. Taking that as his cue, he motioned Dawn to come forward. “She won’t hurt you,” he encouraged the teen. 

Dawn took a tentative step forward and stood beside Spike. “What do I say to her?” she asked him. 

“Hello, for starters. She can’t speak, but I think she can understand us. Least, I hope she can.” 

Nodding, Dawn took another hesitant step toward the beast. “Hi,” her voice squeaked out. “I’m Dawn.” The dragon puffed warm air her way; the breeze pushed her hair back, and nervous laughter escaped her lips. “Spike told me you came here through the portal… so did I--I think. Anyway, I know what it’s like being new here just like you.” 

Spike listened to Dawn talk to the dragon with a slight smile on his face. Like himself, she needed a bit of comforting herself, and something was soothing about talking to the gentle giant. Spike took in its dark scales with flecks of green and gold and imagined it flying high in the sky. Judging by the dried blood on her flank, he surmised that she'd come from her dimension wounded, possibly during battle. Spike guessed that she must have found her way into the reservoir shortly after arriving and stayed ever since. Smart one she is, Spike thought. He could only imagine what the government would do if they ever found her. The initiative had packed up and hightailed it out of town, but that didn’t mean they weren’t watching. 

After spending an hour in the sewers, he and Dawn stopped by the hospital and caught dinner on the way.

“I know! We can name her Pete ‘cause you know, like the movie,” Dawn suggested between slurps of her Double Meat shake.

Spike chuckled. “Pete was the boy who befriended the dragon. Its name was Elliot. I don’t think either would do, seeing as ours is a girl.” 

Dawn grinned, her eyes were bright. “I like that, our dragon. When I was a kid, I always wanted a dog or a cat, but my parents never let me. Now I have a pet dragon. Which is way cooler than some dumb cat.” 

Spike laughed again. “I reckon we’re more her pets than she’s ours. And we best not forget that.” 

Dawn swallowed hard. “You don’t think she’ll eat us, do you?” 

“She might if we name her Pete,” Spike teased with a wink. 

Dawn giggled as they walked down the street together, volleying names back and forth between each other. “Naming a dragon is harder than I thought,” she pouted after they had vetoed about a dozen names. 

“How about Lucille?” Spike suggested as they stepped on to the elevator leading up to Buffy’s room. 

Dawn made a face and scrunched up her nose. “Veto,” she said, taking one final slurp of her shake. “We might as well call her Gertrude or Delores, or something equally horrible.” 

The elevator doors flew open, and they stepped into the hallway. “Gertrude is a horrible name, but I fancy Lucille. Sounds refined.” 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Sounds like an old lady name. I bet she’s not even old.” 

“Time passes differently in hell,” Spike reminded her. 

“Violet. Why don’t we name her Violet because of her eyes?” Dawn said as they walked inside Buffy’s room.

Spike paused, his words dying on his lips as he looked around the hospital room. Xander, Anya, willow, and Tara were sitting on the floor around a pentagram. They had lit candles, casting the room in dim flickering lights. 

“What’s all this?” Spike asked, looking between them and Buffy. She was still hooked to the machines by her bedside, with the monitors beeping every few minutes. 

“Xan, I thought you locked the door?” Willow asked him with a frown. 

“Oops, darn slippery locks” he gave her a sheepish look. 

“Willow, what’s going on? Dawn stammered. “You’re not supposed to do magic without Giles around.” 

She stood up and crossed the room. “There’s a spell,” Willow began slowly. “To reach Buffy in her coma and bring her back. I can bring her back, Dawn.”


	31. Chapter 31

Every morning Buffy began her day to the sound of Cher’s Believe playing loudly from the little radio-alarm clock combo on the side of her bed. While the popstar crooned in all her auto-tuned glory, Celia chatted about her plans for the day. Buffy only half-listened as she stared listlessly at the left wedge shoe in her hand, trying to remember when she’d gotten up to fetch it from the closet. She looked up just as her cousin waved from the door, leaving Buffy alone in their dorm room. 

By midday, she sat at her usual bench at the center of the quad, air-kissing each of her sorority sisters as they scurried off to class. Alone, Buffy raised her face to the sky and let the sun bathe her skin with its warm rays. Her eyes fluttered open just as a plane flew over her head, blocking the sun momentarily and casting a shadow against the toffee-colored horizon. It was the same plane from the day before, and the day before that—Buffy was sure of it now. She turned her head as the boy on the skateboard rolled past her and gave her a friendly wave—like he did every day. And as if on cue, she noticed a couple lounging on the grass together beneath a large shady tree. 

She’d seen all of this before. 

Buffy tugged at her cardigan (the one she was sure Kathy had ruined), wrapping it tighter around herself. Everything around her appeared so pleasantly normal, yet so out of place. She still couldn’t account for the lapses in time or the girl trapped in her mirror. That image haunted her more than anything. She didn’t know if her mind was playing tricks on her or if the girl was real. Buffy had never given ghosts any thought, but it had occurred to her, the girl might have been reaching out to her from the “other side.” She could need my help. Once the idea had taken hold in her mind, it was hard to tuck it neatly away and forget about it again. The feeling was so strong, she had almost confided in Celia but changed her mind at the last moment, hastily changing the subject to something more trivial. Still, the image of the girl stayed with her, and Buffy needed to find answers her cousin couldn’t provide. 

Buffy waited until dark to slip out of the dorm and headed to the library. She allowed herself to enjoy the walk from her dorm to the library, preferring the more subdued atmosphere to the daily campus rush. She felt more like herself at night—like she could do almost anything. She walked along the quiet path, noting that like the night before, she was practically alone, except for the blond guy in the leather coat lurking to the right of her in the shadows. He was watching her from beneath a tree. 

Him again, Buffy thought as she deviated from her path and started walking toward him, feeling both inexplicably drawn to the man and apprehensive at the same time. What are you doing? People usually run from guys creeping around on campus, not toward them. 

“Hey!” she called out to him. “Do you normally lurk around in the dark trying to creep people out?” she asked, fists clenched at her sides. “Or...” 

The man looked at her, his lips curving into a playful smirk as his blue eyes sparkled. A sharp breath caught in her chest and lodged in her throat as she noticed his face for the first time. She felt her insides go soft as her knees turned to jelly. 

Before she could get any closer, he turned away from her, his jacket flapping around his legs as he walked away. 

“Wait!” Buffy shouted, forgetting the reason she had ventured out in the first place. He was the new target of her curiosity, and she was determined to solve at least one mystery that night. 

The faster he moved, the faster Buffy had to walk to catch up to him, moving her legs in a quick trot. With only inches left between them, she placed her hand on his shoulders and turned him around so he could face her. His bright cerulean eyes were gone now, replaced by a menacing yellow that seemed to glow in the dark. Buffy gasped as she noticed the hard bumps and ridges along his forehead. Demon, Buffy thought as she stumbled backward, jittery ankles and two left feet propelling her away from him. But before she could get away, he reached for her hand and pulled her close. 

“You don’t belong here,” he whispered in her ear, then let her go. 

Buffy shot up from her bed with a strangled gasp as Cher’s voice filled her room. Celia stood in front of their mirror, smiled at her through the mirror, and applied her makeup.

“God, I can’t wait to get out of here this weekend,” she said to Buffy in her usual chatty way. 

++++

Spike looked around the hospital room and felt his spine bristle with barely contained anger. Hadn’t Rupert spoken to the chit about mismanaging magic? She had even agreed to dial it back some and take her time before delving into the darkest parts of the dark arts. But by the looks of it, the Watcher’s talk had gone in one ear and out the other. Judging by the guilty looks on everyone’s faces, she hadn’t consulted Rupert about any of this, and Spike doubted she had any plans to. 

“What are you talking about?” Dawn looked around, confused. 

Spike was still too angry to say anything. Instead, he stood muted by anger, listening to Willow as she stammered out her plan to bring Buffy out of her coma. 

“I was going to use this spell before,” Willow explained, her eyes darting around the room. “When Glory took you, Buffy... she became catatonic. Nothing we did could reach her. It was like she had crawled into herself and disappeared. I was going to do a mind walk and, um, get her to come back to us then, but... The spell isn’t complicated. I’ve done way harder stuff than this before,” she said, handing Dawn a thick brown book with gold trimmings. 

“Tell her why you didn’t use it?” Spike said, forcing the words between tight lips. 

Willow glanced in his direction and flushed pink. 

“Tell her,” Spike repeated when she hesitated; Dawn looked between them as they waited for Willow to speak again.

“Spike snapped her out of it,” she muttered. “But this is different!” Willow added in protest. “Buffy wasn’t in a coma then, and we don’t know when or even if she’ll ever wake up on her own.” 

Dawn looked at Spike, her brown eyes cloudy with confusion as if she struggled to understand what Willow was saying to her. “The doctors said...” 

“I know what they said, Dawnie. But Buffy isn’t a normal person, and she wasn’t in some accident. She’s in a coma because she jumped into a portal to save our world! We have to bring her back, and I don’t think time will help her. The longer she stays this way, she may never wake up. Look at her, Dawn; she’s just laying there, wasting away while we sit back and watch. I owe it to Buffy to bring her back.” 

While she spoke, Spike slid the book out of Dawn’s hands and quickly scanned the pages. The spell didn’t seem overly complicated, but the outcome wasn’t as simple as Willow tried to make it out to be. Spike’s jaw clenched as he angrily ran his fingers down the page, reading the spell for the second time. 

“Did you read all of it?” Spike asked, forcing himself to remain calm. If Dawn wasn’t standing not two feet away from him, he could have easily wrung Willow’s scrawny little neck. “Says here that if you do it wrong, you could get lost in there with her.” Spike pointed at Buffy. “Or worse, you could scramble her brain. I’m not sure about the rest of you lot, but do you really want to risk lobotomizing the Slayer on account of a fledgling witch’s experimentin’ with shit she doesn’t even understand?” 

“W-Willow is strong,” Tara spoke up, coming to her defense, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“Is that true?” Dawn asked, frowning.

Willow looked away for a moment. “I’d make sure that wouldn’t happen,” she confirmed Spike’s warning with a mutter. 

Dawn shook her head, swinging her long, brown hair from side to side. “How could you even be sure? How do you know--“ 

“Dawn, Tara is right,” Xander said, moving closer to her. “Willow knows what she’s doing. She... we’ve talked about it, and we think this could work. Willow and I have been friends with Buffy for a long time. She wouldn’t want to live like this. Willow’s just doing what’s best for her.” 

“What’s best?” Spike spat, his face creasing into a deep scowl. “So, now the four of you know what’s best for Buffy?” He could barely contain the shout bubbling inside his chest. They had been plotting behind his back—behind Dawn’s and Rupert’s, too, and now they were claiming to know what was best for Buffy. Spike wondered how long Willow had been planning this and balled his fingers together in carefully practiced control. 

“When were you gonna let us in on the decision making? Or was the plan to go behind our backs the whole time? What were you gonna do if Sabrina screwed up and her little spell went wrong? You’re talkin’ about the possibility of scramblin’ her brain. You can’t fix that with a sodding apology.” He pointed a finger in Willow’s face. “You should have come to us.”

Xander’s face turned beet red as he glared brown daggers at Spike from beneath his tightly knit brows. “We don’t need your permission when it comes to Buffy!” Xander shouted in Spike’s face. “Just because you were sleeping with her doesn’t mean you get to decide. We’re her friends. You’re nothing but a mistake.” 

Before he could stop himself, Spike’s fist shot out and connected with Xander’s dough-like face. All the anger he had felt since he walked into that hospital room thrummed down his arms into his hand, sending Xander staggering back into Anya’s arms. Stunned silence swallowed the air in the room for several long moments as everyone stared at Spike. It took him a half-second to realize they were all waiting for him to react to the punch, and another second passed before he realized the searing pain that sliced through his brain never came. Improvising, Spike quickly smacked the butt of his palm against his temple and let out a jagged howl. He doubled over and pretended to be in pain as Dawn rushed to his side and placed her hand at the center of his back. 

“I guess some things never change,” Xander sneered, working his jaw. 

Spike straightened his back and glared at Xander, wishing he could get in another jab without giving himself away. Somehow the circuits in his brain had malfunctioned or something, allowing him to attack the boy without causing him any pain. Spike had barely had any time to process his new freedom when Dawn’s shrill voice filled the room. 

“Get out!” she squeezed, her voice low at first, before growing into a shout as she repeated herself several times. 

“Dawnie, I—“ Willow began, but she never finished her thought as Dawn’s hand swung out and connected with Willow’s cheek with a hard crack. 

“Shut up.” Dawn picked up the spell book and shoved it in Willow’s outstretched hands. “And get out now.” 

Spike watched as the foursome silently cleaned up the remnants of Willow’s spell and filed out of the room together. Only Tara lingered at the door, giving Dawn big doe eyes as she looked at them, her expression full of empathy—and guilt. 

“I’m s-sorry,” Tara whispered before slipping out into the hallway with the others. 

“We have to tell Giles,” Dawn said as soon as they were gone.

Spike looked down in the direction of her sneakered feet. Together, they rubbed out the pentagram until there was nothing left but faint white lines. “You’re her next of kin...” he spoke, breaking the silence. “You can decide who has access to your sister or not.” 

Dawn nodded and looked at Buffy again. “She... wasn’t always this way. Before the magic.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” 

“But she’s dangerous now. She could have hurt Buffy if we hadn’t walked in.” Dawn squeezed her eyes together while she spoke. “I want her back more than anything. Every day I wake up hoping today’s the day she wakes up. I want her back, Spike, so much... I’ve thought about using magic, but it’s too dangerous. Like with my mom.” 

“The doctors think she can pull through. We’ve gotta have faith in that,” Spike said and took Buffy’s hand. 

“I know.” Dawn looked down at Buffy and whispered, “You have to wake up, Buffy. You have to.” 

++++

“You found Willow in Buffy’s room trying to wake her with a spell.” Giles frowned and removed his glasses. 

“Yeah. Had the candles and pentagram ready along with the rest of the Scoobies for moral support,” Spike reported as he took a seat in front of the Watcher. 

Some hours later, Spike found himself back in Buffy’s living room with Rupert as they discussed the incident at the hospital with the others. He was still fuming. If they hadn’t walked in when they had, Willow might have tried her spell, and Buffy would either have swiss-cheese brain or she might be back among the living. As much as he wanted her out of that coma, he wasn’t willing to risk it with magic. It didn’t matter who was doing the spell. In the quiet moments when he had too much time on his hands, he had allowed his mind to wander. He knew some people—a local guy named Rack. He was some kind of badass warlock, inaccessible, and nearly impossible to bargain with. Spike had thought about seeking him out but thought better of it when he realized he’d be leaving Buffy vulnerable to a guy who had questionable morals and no loyalty to his Slayer. Spike understood their desire to have Buffy back, but it wasn’t worth the risk. 

“I thought I made myself clear to her,” Giles muttered. “I’ve explained to her the consequences these kinds of Magicks could have. They’re much too dangerous, and she’s far too inexperienced to handle that kind of power.” 

“Not according to her bird and the rest of the Scoobies. They seemed pretty determined to get it done.” 

“How does Dawn feel about it?” 

Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling. He could hear her breathing steadily, indicating that she had fallen asleep. “The bit? She was pretty brassed off. Kicked everyone out of the room ‘cept me. Was right proud of her for standin’ up to them and not letting Red have her way. It was her idea that I talk to you about the others.” 

“Oh?” 

“She doesn’t want any of them near Buffy if one of us isn’t around. And she wants you to talk to Willow again. I agree. The girl’s thick, but maybe something will sink in. She wants the others to be there, too.”

“I’m sure I can arrange that. I think we need an intervention... for all of them. I can’t have them jeopardizing the Slayer’s life, experimenting with forces they don’t understand. And I agree with you and Dawn. We shouldn’t leave Buffy alone with them anymore. I hate to say it, but I don’t trust Willow around her. That girl has gotten much too arrogant in these past few months. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago.” 

Spike agreed with a silent nod. He had noticed Willow’s decline a while back, but it wasn’t his place to step in. He had warned her about encouraging Dawn to use the resurrection spell, but that warning hadn’t been enough to stop her. They needed to send a clear message to her about using magic without Giles’s guidance. Spike stood up, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs, and looked toward the front door. 

He hadn’t forgotten about the lack of frontal lobe action after hitting Xander in the face. He had thought about it the entire way home. He had intended to hurt Xander when he struck him and had been fully prepared for the consequence. Months had passed since the chip had fired off those pain receptors through each of the neurons in his brain. But he knew it was still in there, giving him that extra incentive not to get all fangy with the locals. Spike wondered if his leap into the vortex with Buffy had fried the circuits in the chip, rendering him his big, bad self again. 

“Yeah, intervention might work for you lot. But I won’t count on it.” 

“You think she’ll try again?” 

“Dunno, but I don’t want to find out.” Spike walked to the front door. “Think I’ll go on a patrol. Don’t wait up,” he added, letting himself out. 

It was still warm out, and Spike realized that he looked out of place, walking through the streets of Sunnydale in his leather duster, but he didn’t care. Ignoring the curious stares, he followed the sound of music to the Bronze. Spike couldn’t recall the last time he had stepped foot into the dingy nightclub, but it was a welcomed change. He didn’t mind looking after Dawn, but there was only so much “boy talk” a grown man could take. He looked around the dim interior and took his place at the bar. Time to test the waters, he thought as he scanned the room. Spike watched the small crowd as he tethered the line between nervous anticipation and dread. If he was right, then there was nothing keeping him from sinking his fangs into the tender necks of every person in the bar. Looking around, Spike realized he could feast on them for hours. The demon within did a happy flip, its excitement sending waves of glee to his pleasure receptors, and his stomach growled loudly in response. 

Spike scanned the room and spotted a boy sitting alone with a dopey expression on his pasty face. He frowned in recognition, connecting the face to that dweeb who had put a spell on the entire city a few months back. What was his name—Jonathan something? Winner, winner chicken dinner, he thought with a smirk as he slid off the barstool and watched the wee man leave his cover beneath the stairway and head out the door. No one would miss him, he tried to convince himself, unable to quiet the niggling voice at the back of his mind, warning him against feeding on a human.

But I’ve been such a good boy, the demon protested. For months he had put away his base desires and practically became a boy scout—minus the poncy uniform, of course. What was one little bite in respect to the countless lives he had saved? Spike waited a few seconds and followed him outside, only to find that he had disappeared. 

Couldn’t have strayed that far, he thought as he strolled further into the shadows. A trash can lid clattered to his left, and Spike ducked into the narrow cargo street, spotting the boy being held at knifepoint by a lanky man in a skullcap. Spike watched as Jonathan huddled against the wall, shielding his face with his arms as he trembled. Spike heard the pulsing of both their hearts and swallowed his desire to feed as the boy scout in him kicked in. Spike imagined Buffy standing off to the side, watching him with expectation as his eyes shifted between predator and prey. He thought of Dawn back at home, believing that he was a hero—a good man. He even thought of Rupert, trusting him to love his Slayer. Xander was wrong; this wasn’t just about shagging the Slayer. This was about doing good, Spike reminded himself, and any thought of feeding evaporated as he stalked closer, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. 

“Step away from the boy,” he warned, his voice low and menacing. 

The man looked up and smiled, holding his blade so it flashed under the one street light glowing dimly in the alleyway. He gave Spike a quick once over and said, “Why don’t you make me?” 

Spike smiled, closing the distance between them in a blink of an eye. “Happy to oblige,” he answered when he was right on top of him. Fangs bared, he tossed the man against the opposite wall, rag dolling him before yanking him to his feet. The tang of the man’s sweat filled his nostrils as his heart pounded in Spike’s ear. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he heard a small voice encouraging him to take a drink. It wasn’t as if beardy was a saint—he was a thief, a fiend who preyed on the helpless. 

Sneering, Spike released him with a hard shove. “Get out of here before I change my mind,” he growled, his voice gravely with restrained hunger. 

The man scrambled to his feet and took off down the alley, leaving Spike and Jonathan alone. Spike sucked in a deep breath and counted backward from five before turning to face the boy who stood with his back pressed against the wall as if he was trying to become one with the bricks. Spike moved his head from side to side, shaking the demon away, and stepped forward. 

“Thank you,” Jonathan stammered. 

Spike nodded, thinking the boy wouldn’t have thanked him if he knew what his true intentions had been before spotting him with his would-be robber. “S’ no problem. But you best be getting home. There are far worse things out here than petty thieves. Jonathan took a hard gulp and bobbed his head, but didn’t move, forcing Spike to roll his eyes. “Go on. Get.” 

“You’re Spike. Buffy’s friend,” Jonathan’s voice cracked nervously. 

“Yeah? What of it?” His guard went up again, wondering if word had gotten out about Buffy yet. Jonathan was nothing but a low-level pest, but they had found him in the middle of the thick of things one time too many. 

“I-I was just thinking... you guys always seem to be around when people need you. I almost—he could have killed me.” 

Spike bit back a smile. The thief’s weapon of choice was barely the size of a pocket knife, but yeah, Spike supposed he had saved his life. And that had been much easier than trying to take it. He swallowed down the slick feeling of guilt at the back of his throat and nodded again. 

“Well, don’t go makin’ a habit out of getting in trouble.” Spike eyed Jonathan for a moment, recalling the time when he had practically worshiped the kid thanks to that stupid celebrity spell, and just like that, he was reminded once again that magic couldn’t be trusted in the hands of children. Well, unless they were named Harmonie Granger. 

“I wasn’t, actually. I was supposed to meet some friends here. A few guys I went to high school with. We were, uh, reconnecting.” 

“Yeah?” Spike asked, already disinterested. 

“I guess they stood me up.” 

Spike heard the disappointment in the dweeb’s voice and almost felt sorry for him. “Maybe they got busy,” he offered the half-hearted platitude. 

Jonathan shrugged as they walked out the alley together. “Maybe... anyway, thanks again for saving me. I owe you one.” 

More like a dozen, but who was counting at this point? Spike dug in his pocket and fished out Jonathan’s velcro wallet—he had taken it from the robber during their scuffle—and handed it to him. “Don’t sweat it.” Spike tilted his head to the sky, then looked at Jonathan again. High off his own heroics, he said, “It’s late. How are you getting home?” 

“Oh, I rode in on my hog.” 

Spike raised a brow and gave Jonathan a dubious look as he tried to imagine him riding into town on a Harley. The boy flushed a bright pink and ducked his head. 

“Vespa. My parents gave it to me for Christmas last year. It’s eco friendly.”

“I’m sure.” Spike bit back a smirk. 

“I could give you a ride home if you want. There’s room for two.” He sounded hopeful. 

“As much as I appreciate the offer, think I’ll walk. It’s a nice night for a stroll.” 

“Yeah, sure. But if you ever need anything...” Jonathan insisted, stopping in front of his motor scooter. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Spike watched as Jonathan climbed on his motorized bike and squeezed into a biker helmet before taking off down the street. 

++++ 

The next morning, Spike’s internal alarm startled him awake at just after nine. It had taken him years to readjust his body to human hours—a habit that Dru hated but eventually got used to since it meant they could feed during the day. Except, this time it wasn’t a hungry vampire he was tending to. It was a ravenous teenager who looked forward to pancakes on Saturday mornings. 

Spike pulled on a black t-shirt and padded downstairs, expecting to see Dawn curled on the sofa watching cartoons—a habit she still hadn’t outgrown—while Rupert made tea in the kitchen. Instead, he found both Watcher, and the teenager huddled around the kitchen table with Tara quietly sitting on the other side. It wasn’t uncommon for the Scoobies to drop in on the weekends, but Spike hadn’t expected to see one so soon—not after the other night. 

“Glenda,” he greeted the witch by his pet name for her. 

“Tara just dropped by to bribe me with candy and promises of shopping,” Dawn immediately jumped in, picking up a bag of sour crawlers for him to see. Spike could tell by the look on her face that the rainbow-colored candies would not be enough to make up for last night. 

“I-I wanted to tell you, all of you, that I’m sorry. If I had known what the spell might do, I’d have never agreed to help Willow do it.” Tara looked down as if she couldn’t look them in the eyes. 

“I appreciate the apology,” Giles spoke first, extending an olive branch to her. “But you must understand that this isn’t the first time Willow has crossed the line. If she continues down this path, someone could get seriously hurt... or worse.” 

“I know.” Her voice was low. “I know she was only trying to help, but it was wrong of us to try that spell without coming to you first, Dawn,” Tara apologized to the teen while looking at her with large sad eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Dawn waited a beat and placed her hand on top of Tara’s with a light squeeze. “I know you were only trying to help, but Willow... she’s—“ 

“Dangerous,” Tara finished. “I mean, she’s becoming really powerful, and the magic she’s trying is dangerous.” 

Spike understood that Tara was trying to protect her lady, but he still appreciated her apology. Now that he had put some distance between himself and the night before, he could see her side of it more clearly. 

“I know, and that’s why I want to talk to her about it,” Giles said. “But it may go over better if she saw that you’re concerned, too.” 

“Like an intervention?” 

“In a sense, yes.” 

Tara nodded and looked down at her hands. “I’ll do it. What time would you like us to be here?” 

Giles looked at Spike. “This evening after five. Do you think you can bring the others?” 

“I think so. They’re worried about Willow, too.” 

“Good. Then we’ll see you all tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my awesome beta Twinkles! 
> 
> Hi everyone, sorry for the long delay! Work has been a beast, and I haven't been able to write anything other than reports and emails the last few weeks. My muse finally peeked its head out and blessed me with some creative words. Anyway, thanks for your patience. I hope you all like this chapter :D


End file.
